DOWN THE MAELSTROM
by Scarlett Ashes
Summary: After four nights of circling the darkened Neverland, the strange effects of its different and dangerous magic become horrifyingly apparent to all aboard the Jolly Roger. The core six soon find themselves forced to fight one other in a mad struggle for power, the mission to save Henry jeopardized as each person's darkest demons claw their way to the light.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, there ;) This is not my first long fanfic, but it is the first one I've ever posted on FanFiction, and I'm extremely excited about it. To give you a bit of background, this first chapter picks up a few days after Emma and Co. arrive in Neverland on the Jolly Roger. I originally started it as a lovely little Hook one-shot, but it has since evolved into a beast of its own. My inspiration came from an interview the stunning Mr. Colin O'Donoghue gave (some of you may be familiar with it) where he teases that Hook could have a bit of "fun" with Regina while waiting for Emma. Of course, what you will read below has become something almost…hmm…80 % different.

It is rated M because I do not want to put any limits on this story. Be forewarned, I do not have a problem getting up close and personal in some scenes, and sometimes you just have to get down and gritty with violence and gore. Cuss words are frequent as well. I do not own these characters unfortunately, but I do own the story and cover. All rights reserved.

PS: Reviews are very much appreciated!

**Chapter 1 - Cabin Fever**

Her footsteps outside his cabin door had been the noise to pull him out of a fitful sleep. Out of the dreams. He'd known it was her from the telltale quick stride and the heavy, purposeful clicks of her heels. Regina had never been one to go anywhere meekly – or quietly, for that matter.

Every night of the four they'd already spent in Neverland, she'd rise while the ship rested quiet and dark in the waters, the others tucked away in their bunks. Every night she'd pace above his head, the rhythmic clip of her gait waking him more than once. It amused him to witness how this fierce, "evil" queen slid into the role of the worried mother so well, so easily.

Though, Neverland certainly had its own way of bringing unseen pieces of one's soul to the light.

The countless nights Hook had spent alone, self-banished in a world full of lost brats and a hygienically-challenged crew of men – it had nearly been enough to destroy the bit of sanity he'd maintained after watching that Crocodile plunge his hand into Milah's chest. He had admittedly become a tyrant, taking out his frustrations on his crew, demolishing what democracy had once existed amongst them. If he hadn't escaped the world when he did, there would have absolutely been no going back. As it was, his murderous wrath had bled over in the Enchanted Forest when he returned, quite literally, and had only just now begun to ebb. He wondered if his time away from this Godforsaken world had to do with his rage easing, the shroud being cast back from his eyes – and he pondered now that since he was back, would his old insanity return? The muscles in his shoulders tensed as his skin prickled. He reached for the picture of Milah that he kept beside his bed.

Something about having women aboard again must have stirred old ghosts…memories best left forgotten. Milah's face haunted his dreams, such as it had in the agonizing days and weeks that followed her murder. It had been ripping him apart, waking nightly in terror, only to face her murderer the next morning, casually gimping across the decks that they had shared. It was more than he could stand, even for the boy…

Sanity. Keep it. Distract yourself.

Hook sighed audibly, his chest collapsing down as her forced the breath out. He felt the familiar tightness of the leather straps over his shoulder, holding the holster in place over his maimed wrist. His skin had long lost sensation under the rough straps, scars criss-crossing over his left arm where it had been rubbed raw over the centuries. He twisted his arm beneath it in search of some pain, some twinge beyond the deadness, but none came. He pounded the wall beside him with his fist instead.

It was what he needed. Just a moment, a brief taste of what it meant to be alive. Emma's wide eyes and "understanding," could only complicate things. It had to be her. No emotion, no conflict.

He'd thought about it before, more than once even. Regina wasn't unattractive, quite the contrary in fact, even if she was in the nasty habit of trying to kill him. It wasn't like he hadn't repaid her bit by bit for the pain she'd caused him, though. At present, he even considered them even.

"Fucking hell," he mumbled, rising from his mattress. He tucked Milah's picture away in his desk drawer.

Swiping his shirt off of the back of the desk chair, he slipped it on over his head, covering the straps on his arm. He didn't bother buttoning it past the four he always left clasped on the bottom. He'd grown quite adept at managing life with one hand, but it was thanks to little short-cuts such as leaving his shirts and vest partially buttoned that made life just a bit more bearable.

Though not entirely so.

Hook left his cabin before he could think anymore about it, before he could consider again exactly what he was doing. He took the steps two-at a time, emerging onto the black, windswept deck before she'd had a chance to turn and see who was approaching.

"Captain?" Regina said, surprise lightly lifting her voice. She had to raise her voice above the sound of the waves. "I thought everyone was asleep."

"It's a dangerous thing to sleep in Neverland. The lost ones are not the only souls to be plagued by nightmares." The statement wasn't meant to be light, and yet it came out in his usual, airy tone.

Regina's arms were crossed, perhaps to ward off the chill in the night air, but she didn't step away as he approached. Her eyes remained narrowed…cautious, he thought.

"Well, it's a wonder any of them could sleep with the ship tossing the way it is. I've always hated sailing," she sighed, her eyes drifting towards the darkened island. He was careful not to follow her gaze. The sight of that looming dark mass was more than enough to ruin the warm rush he was working towards now. The thought of Bae's son, Emma's wide eyes…

"Are you feeling a bit green, Highness?" he asked, chasing the thoughts away. He moved behind her, and lowered his lips to her ear. "Perhaps you'd fare better in an actual bed, rather than a bunk."

One of her dark, carefully shaped eyebrows quirked. He matched the movement with his own as her dark eyes focused on him.

"And you would be the only one with a bed, I'm assuming," she said, her voice flat. Calculating.

"Aye, that I would," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. His eyes remained hard as he tried to envision the different ways he could have her tangled beneath him. It took a moment, but one image of her backed against a wall and panting finally riled his lust, and he held onto it for dear life.

Regina's eyes soon sparkled with a glimmer of the fire he was now feeling.

"You want something from me, don't you?" she asked, casually adjusting the lapels of his shirt, first tugging them together, and then pulling them apart. He closed his eyes as he felt her fingertips brush his skin.

"You might say that, my Queen. But," he suddenly grabbed the hand that had been so lightly travelling down across the top of his stomach. He heard her gasp in surprise, but she didn't make a move to stop him. "But," he repeated, his voice lower, "I can see just as plainly, that you want something from me as well. I was hoping we might reach…some kind of arrangement."

Black eyes met his, and she pulled her hand back. "What kind of arrangement?"

"Well, I was thinking the first one could be with you against a wall, panting, sweat glistening over your breasts, and then perhaps, with you on your back, that black hair of yours spilled over my pillows…"

"You're trying too hard," she chided, the hint of laughter in her voice. "And with someone you know wouldn't think twice about burying a dagger into your back while you slept. Desperate much?"

If he was trying too hard, then she was laying herself out naked on the deck before him. His temperature rose. "Are you trying to rile me, Regina?"

"Don't flatter yourself. If I had ever once wanted to have sex with you, don't you think it would have happened by now? I'm not exactly the type to tip-toe around propriety." She leaned towards him, her slender white neck upturned as she hovered her lips over his. "When I want something, Captain, I take it. There's no asking involved."

He smiled. "And here I was trying to be a gentleman."

"Nice guys finish last," she said, lowering her lids briefly as she glanced down at his lips. "But you're not exactly Prince Charming, are you?"

"Indeed not."

"Hm. Do you know what happened to the last man I slept with?" she asked, now pressing the entire front of her body against his. He felt her palm over his heart.

"No, and I can't say that I care – "

His words were cut off when he felt the intense, hot pressure of her magic over his chest, seeping into his skin and deeper. He suddenly couldn't breathe. It felt as though his lungs were collapsing and smothering his heart…

"You should care, Hook, so listen well. I wrapped my fingers around his heart, just as I'm doing to yours now, and crushed it in my hand. And do you know why I did it?"

Words escaped him as the wretchedly familiar sense of helplessness he'd felt at the hands of Rumplestiltskin and Cora overtook him. He hated magic. God how he hated it…God how he hated her…

"I killed him," she said, "because of Emma. I killed him for choosing her over me. I am no man's second choice, least of all to a worthless, pitiful creature such as yourself."

In an instant her hand was suddenly gone, and he was the one left panting on the deck, heart still throbbing irregularly. A sudden image of him burying his hook in her back established itself prominently in his mind, but he had to be careful. How had she brought Emma into the equation so quickly?

"Oh don't be so fucking sensitive," he shouted at her back as he kneeled and tried to find a regular rhythm. "It must have been a bloody long time since you've been properly drilled. But then, with a personality like that, I think I'm glad to have been denied."

He stood, shakily, but managed with only a bit of support from the mast behind him. Regina stopped walked, and turned to face him again.

"You do realize that I could toss you over the ship with a mere flick of my wrist?"

"Aye. Just as you realize that once you do, there will be no one left to navigate. No way to steer my ship towards your beloved son."

She seemed to consider that a moment, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side. The gesture reminded him vaguely of the way Emma would occasionally look at him. Pondering…

"You're not worth the effort," she finally said. "But I'll be damned if after all this, I don't get something out of you."

"My soul, perhaps?" he laughed, wincing as the movement rattled his sore chest.

"Now what in the world would I want with that?" Regina was smiling, her painted red lips easy and full. "Tell me, _Captain,_" she said, stalking back towards him. "How long before we make port?"

The question caught him off guard, but his mouth answered automatically. "Two, maybe three days, depending on the weather. Why?"

"Well then, I'd say you have two to three days to make yourself more useful than a cripple who knows how to sail. I don't see Gold letting you live much longer than that, and I don't see anyone else here giving a damn."

The words should have meant more to him than they did, but he couldn't be bothered to place much weight on them. He had considered before that, once his usefulness had been tapped, Rumplestiltskin would likely turn on him like the scaly, slimy, cowardly creature that he was. He even realized that his life was likely near its end, even from the very moment he's seen on that globe where Bae's son had been taken. Hook had already escaped Neverland once, and it had nearly cost him his life then. He wasn't fool enough to believe that fate favored him enough to allow a second escape.

"You seem to be under the impression that _I_ give a damn, Highness." He smiled at her then, standing a bit taller. Even in her boots and heavy coat, he still cast an imposing shadow over her in the bright moonlight.

"You don't care that he's going to kill you?" she asked, more inquisitive than surprised. She regarded him with a furrowed brow.

"Why should I? Three hundred years is an awfully long time to spend in this world," he thought for a moment, "or any other, for that matter. And, quite frankly, a week aboard this ship with you lot in such close quarters...it's a wonder I haven't thrown myself overboard."

"I don't understand. You stopped the town from being destroyed, even though Gold would have been killed, because you valued your own life more..." she stopped midsentence, her eyes widening ever so slightly. "No, no that's not true, is it? There was another reason."

Hook watched her silently, noting the subtle changes in her face while the gears twisted in her head. Click. Like a clock striking midnight, the bells seemed to go off.

"Her. You did everything for her."

"Seeing as I've know several women throughout the years, you'll need to be a bit more specific - "

"Emma," she cut him off, her voice irritated. "You did it for her."

He shrugged, doing his best to appear nonchalant. "Not necessarily." He thought quickly. "I saw her son. I remembered how she and Snow White would talk about him, how desperate they were to get back to him. When I arrived back in Storybrooke in that terrible couple's carriage, and they told me their plans...well, I let my sentimentality get the better of me. Every child deserves a family. He would have been alone had I not intervened."

"You sailed away with the magic bean. We would have all died and he would have been just as alone."

"I did come back. I won't say that I'm perfect, or that some part of me didn't want to survive. It was just instinct. "

"So you're doing this for Henry?" she asked, her quick eyes watching his more carefully than before.

"I suppose so," he answered, and nearly flinched when the image of Bae's face from so long ago flashed across his mind. The betrayal, the hurt...

"You'd do anything for him?"

"Considering he is a child, I won't say that I'd grant his every whim. But, I will do what I can to protect him."

"You almost sound sincere, Hook," she smiled again. "Watch out or you'll end up just like Charming and the other idiots below." She leaned closer to him again, and he instinctively raised his hook between them. She eyed it only for a moment before disregarding it completely. "Perhaps we can come to some sort or arrangement, after all."

He raised a brow, but didn't relax his stance. "I'm afraid that offer has been closed, love. Perhaps you should have been a bit nicer."

"I don't mean that," she purred, her eyes catching on the billowing edges of his shirt, "though it may have been a bit too long since I - well..." her eyes flicked back up to his. "What I meant was about you living to see Henry safely off the island. You can't tell me you don't want that, at least. I could make it happen. You asked for my protection before, back in Storybrooke - "

"Before you threw me to Maleficent's vengeful ghost, yes I remember."

"After which you handed me over to Greg Mendell so that he could torture me to death. We could go around in circles all day, and neither one of us would ever get what we want. Or," she wrapped two of her fingers around his hook, "we could stop this silly tit for tat betrayal shit and actually work together to accomplish something."

He flicked his hook out of her grasp, but refused to step back, instead opting to use his height and size to loom over her. He beat back the voice in his head called him an idiot for trying to intimidate a woman who could likely kill him before he had the chance to blink. "And what is it," he said, "that you want in return?"

A part of him regretting even relenting that tiny bit, but her words had found a home this time. If he could ensure that Milah's grandson really was safe, at least lay eyes on the boy before the Crocodile turned on him...

"I simply want what I've always wanted. My son." Her eyes almost appeared glassy in the moonlight.

"I would assume you mean all for yourself," he said.

"It's not just that," her eyes lowered. "He's the safest with me. I am the only one who can protect him. You know better than any how twisted Gold is, and Emma...she might care for him, but she's only mortal, and I'll be damned before I let Snow and Charming take him away from me. Help me rescue him, Hook, help me bring him back to the Enchanted Forest, and I won't let Gold lay a finger on you."

"What of the others?" he asked, already anticipating her answer.

"They can stay here, or go back to Storybrooke. Either way, I don't care. I just want my son."

If anything, Regina was a least predictable. "And what would stop you from killing me once the boy's safe?"

"Nothing," she replied, her voice flat, emotionless. "But if I do decide that it's better for Henry if you're dead, at least you'll know that he's not alone."

No, only trapped with the witch who took away his entire family and isolated him in a strange world.

"You're being honest now. I've never seen this side of you before, Regina," he quipped, his own mind working out the best possible solution. He didn't intend to stand by and let her snatch the boy away from the others, even despite the fact that he'd still rather she have him than the Crocodile. But that didn't mean she couldn't still be useful. It seemed the "tit for tat betrayal shit," was the only way they could communicate. He wasn't quite through with her yet.

"You'll ensure that I will survive long enough to see him safe?" he said, holding back the bitter laugh that threatened to escape. She likely thought him a pathetic being indeed, negotiating the terms of his death with such ease. But that worked to his advantage. She could think that all she liked.

"I will. So long as you back me up when the time comes."

"And when might that be?" he asked, now feigning boredom.

"When the ship makes port, make sure that we are the last ones aboard the ship. I can fend off Gold just long enough for us to escape. We'll sail back out, and find a better position, out of their reach. I should be able to replicate my mother's camouflage spell over the ship. We'll just have to get to Henry before they do."

"And if we can't?"

Regina smiled, her white teeth flashing in a rather feral fashion. "This ship is the only way we can return home. Even if they get to Henry first, when we offer him safe passage out of this world, they'll give him to me. That's just how their minds work. They'd sacrifice anything to protect him, just as I would."

"Somehow I don't see that lovely, dysfunctional family of yours giving in so easily. I wouldn't dare assume that's all there is to your plan."

"It's all you need to know," she answered. "Do we have an agreement?"

A thought suddenly crossed his mind, and he let a wicked smile crease his face. His insides were burning while he made every effort to force his mind blank, unthinking. He was going to get as much out of this as possible, and leave her empty and used behind him. The thought of defeating her, winning for once…it was undeniable intoxicating.

"I have a condition of my own, dear Queen," he said, lowering his voice and closing the distance between them. His leg still ached from when she'd shoved him down that chasm in Maleficent's cave, but there was a deeper ache that seemed to override it. It throbbed with every heartbeat, and a loud rushing in his ears carried louder than the crash of the waves against the ship's bow.

Her eyes seemed glued to his chest. "Don't think you can dictate - "

He forced her chin with his hand, gripping it hard. He half expected her to rip his heart out then and there, but her breath caught as those black eyes stared haughtily back at him. When she didn't move, he ventured forward.

"I'm curious, why you thought that you were my second choice," he whispered, leaving his lips parted. "Milah was my first love, indeed, but I'm not looking for another. There's no other competition."

"I thought you were glad that I rejected you," she said, and he could feel her jaw working under his hand. He skin was softer than it looked, the scar above her lip now less disfiguring and more interesting than it had been before.

_This is wrong. _The small voice echoed in his head, but he'd never been one to listen to it much.

"I want this," he answered back, aloud.

"What, exactly?" she asked. He noticed that her eyes roving about his face, lingering on his lips for an instant, then his own scar...

"Higher stakes," he replied, his voice level. She tried to jerk her head back, but he maintained his grip on her chin. "And by that I mean, I want you to see me as more than just one of your pawns. Perhaps if we were a bit..." he slipped the tip of his hook into her coat and pulled her flush against him, "closer, you wouldn't be so willing to discard me."

It felt so exceptional to have her on the other end of his hook this time, rather than the other way around. He realized that she'd told him enough so she couldn't raise a hand...let alone spell against him. She'd shown her cards, laid her plan all but bare before him. She needed his cooperation, and taken for granted that he'd give it without a fuss. The fury in her eyes was evident, her lips pressed into a thin, vibrant red line.

It was a moment before he realized that she'd relaxed against him, though. No longer straining.

He took it as an invitation, and she only huffed a bit when he quickly closed his mouth over hers, teeth biting and worrying her taut lips apart. He could vaguely taste the paint on them, a waxy flavor, before delving deeper. It had been so long since he'd indulged his lust, and even longer since he'd actually kissed a woman. He didn't kiss whores, and he'd considered leaving that out with Regina as well, but he needed her to feel as though she could trust him. He needed her to attach…

His thoughts fled as her hand gripped the back of his neck. Whether she was trying to pull him closer, or more easily lift herself up towards him, he couldn't tell, but her thigh suddenly rested against a very sensitive place, and all his plans and plots and ambiguous intentions left him there, alone. It only took a moment before Milah's face flashed across his mind, the way she used to look beneath him, lips parted and breath coming fast…

Regina's lips suddenly broke away, less red, but plumper than before. He opened his eyes, willing the image away.

"You want to seal our agreement like this?" she questioned, her voice breathy. "With a night in bed?"

"Two nights, at the very least," he growled, and his thoughts were now back on the multiple ways he could have her, that image of her pinned against the wall glowing brighter than ever…

"Getting a bit greedy, are we?"

"Well, I am a pirate," he said, stretching his mouth into what some might have taken as a smile.

"So you've said," she answered, her own sneer widening. "Shall we take this below deck?" Her thigh pressed harder against him, and he was forced to turn a short, guttural sound from the back of his throat into a laugh.

"After you, my Queen."

The short walk down the stairs and to his cabin was spent in silent anticipation. Neither of them touched, she hardly glanced at him. He couldn't help but pause and consider as she walked through his doorway if this was really the wisest course of action. He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. A series of images flashed through his mind…a scarf, that damned beanstalk, dainty fingers placing an iridescent bean in the palm of his hand…but Regina was already inside, turning one of his books over in her hand. The sight of a woman by his bed made his hand tremble. If only it was…

A soft noise suddenly sounded behind him, and his head whipped about automatically. Her tried to focus as his eyes scanned the deep darkness, drawn to the corner by the stairs that remained black as night, untouched by moonbeams. He shifted his weight to the other foot as he stepped forward. It almost seemed too dark. As if something…

"Captain," he heard Regina's throaty whisper, and he turned back. Her coat had been discarded, her scarf thrown over the chair. The red blouse she wore underneath shimmered, the rise and fall of her breasts smooth, deep. "We have a deal to settle."


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, I really want to thank everyone for all the wonderful feedback that I've received so far. You guys are awesome**

**On to this chapter, I just want to let you know that it was originally going to be one massive 4500 word post, but I've since broken it up into two chapters. I do have the next one ready and waiting to go, so you can expect it to be up in a few days. I'm really having such a great time writing this, and I hope you guys are enjoying it as well!**

**A bit of a disclaimer before you begin, this part is what initially made me say, yeah this puppy probably needs to be rated "M," for reasons that you'll just have to read below to know ;**_**)**_

**Chapter 2 – Cast Off**

She'd woken from her light half-sleep when Regina slipped from her bunk. A cold breeze fluttered over her bare shoulders as Regina opened the door, and it was only minutes later when she'd heard Hook's cabin door open as well, his quick footsteps mounting the stairs. Mary Margaret and David still slept soundly, wrapped in each other's arms on the floor. They'd refused to let Emma sleep on the hard palette, and Regina hadn't even considered offering her bunk to the pair, though it would have admittedly been a tight squeeze. Gold naturally had to have his own room so that he could "recuperate his magic" in peace. She'd been too tired to put up much of an argument.

He and Regina had explained to everyone how Neverland's brand of magic was foreign, unpredictable. Apparently it worked a bit differently, and he said that it might take "time" before he and Regina would be able to function normally. Emma had tuned out most of the explanation after they assured her that they would eventually get the hang of it. She just needed to know that they weren't defenseless against whatever the hell had Henry now. She just hoped that things would get back to "normal" for them sooner rather than later.

She laid quiet in the dark room for a moment, trying to will herself back to sleep, but her eyelids just wouldn't stay shut. She couldn't help but wonder just what the hell Regina and Hook had to talk about in the middle of the goddamn night. It wasn't long before she realized that there'd be no falling back asleep with her mind concocting every different, and none-too reassuring scenario that could occur between the two. With a muffled cry of exasperation, she rose from her straw mat as noiselessly as possible and slipped boots over her feet. Something still didn't sit right with her about how eager Hook had been to help them. Sure, he might not have been the worst villain she'd ever come across, but he and Regina didn't exactly make her favorite pair.

She took her black coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, not bothering to pull on her black sweater over the camisole she wore. She eased out of the room, carefully sliding past her parents. David's light snores helped to cover the sound of her footsteps.

Step by step, Emma crept down the corridor. Voices drifted down to her from above, and she could immediately distinguish Hook's accented drawl.

"…_you want something from me as well. I was hoping we might reach…some kind of arrangement."_

What the hell? Emma quickly positioned herself in a dark corner behind the stair, and pulled her black coat over her head to hide the lightness in her face and hair. She really hated it sometimes when her suspicious nature was reaffirmed.

"_What kind of arrangement?" _she heard Regina reply.

"_Well, I was thinking the first one could be with you against a wall, panting, sweat glistening over your breasts, and then perhaps, with you on your back, that black hair of yours spilled over my pillows…"_

They had to be fucking kidding her. Seriously?

It wasn't long before Emma found herself half-disgusted as Hook shamelessly laid himself out on a platter, practically begging. Her face burned as she listened to the undertone of desperation in his voice, even though he seemed to be trying very hard to cover it with his usual swagger. A part of her felt pity for the man, but another reassured her that whatever "suffering" he's endured, had only been brought on by himself. He couldn't expect every woman in the world to just fall into his arms at the fucking snap of his fingers.

_Even though she'd fallen fairly eagerly into his in the Giant's lair…_

Jesus Christ. She'd been trying to save his life. Period.

She'd heard just about enough when they mentioned her father, and she abandoned her position in the corner. The last thing she wanted to do was stand there all night and listen to –

Her thoughts jumbled to a sudden halt when a startled cry froze her in her tracks. Regina's wicked, commanding voice seemed to blare around her.

"_You should care, Hook, so listen well._ _I wrapped my fingers around his heart, just as I'm doing to yours now, and crushed it in my hand. And do you know why I did it?" _

Regina paused, and Emma's own heart felt as though it were about to burst from her chest. No, no she wasn't talking about him. Not him. Not Graham…

"_I killed him,"_ Regina said, _"because of Emma. I killed him for choosing her over me."_

A breath, sob, half-choked cry escaped Emma's throat before she could slap her hand over her mouth. It wasn't something she hadn't already realized, but it was the first time anyone had ever said it outright, the first time the reason for his death was laid out before her in black and white. A frantic sort of panic suddenly seized her. She heard Hook's knees hitting the deck, and it nearly drove her to race up the stairs, to stop Regina. Her gun was back in the room, but for two brief steps she was ready to face Regina unarmed, if only to stop her from killing him too. Her foot was practically on the bottom stair before her brain tuned itself back into what Regina was saying.

"…_but I'll be damned if after all this, I don't get something out of you."_

Emma hand gripped the railing beside her, but something told her to wait. Something stopped her from going any further. Something in her gut. She paused, and listened for Hook's response. It didn't sound like he was in pain anymore.

Her grip on the railing tightened as their conversation continued, and after a moment she eased herself back into that lonely corner, slinking into a crouch as she heard Regina reveal her plan, detail by detail. She was…she was still trying to take Henry away from her. Even after everything they'd been through, after every time Emma had saved her life, she still wanted her gone. Out of the way. And it sounded like Hook was going to help her.

She couldn't help but listen harder when his voice lowered, the fist she'd made of her right hand slowly grinding into the folds of her coat.

_"I'm curious, why you thought that you were my second choice. Milah was my first love, indeed, but I'm not looking for another. There's no other competition."_

Emma's eyes stared hard at the wall opposite her, eyes tracing the lattice of light thrown across it by the unusually bright moonlight gleaming through the open hatch. Hook's voice had taken on a low, almost predatory tone.

_"I want this."_

The silence that soon followed needed no explanation.

By the time Regina's boots reached the stairs again, Emma was shaking. Shaking with such venom in her blood, so much anger. She gripped the coat over her head all the tighter to still her tremors as the pair made their way below deck. She stopped breathing, stopped blinking. All she could see through gap she'd left in her coat was Regina's back as she entered Hook's cabin, and then he turned…

That image of him standing at the base of the stairs, shirt gaping and steel hook glinting in the light gripped her, and gripped her hard. She still didn't breathe, didn't move, her body unwilling to rise and confront him. His darkly lidded eyes caught in the light, his irises so light the blue was nearly invisible.

She carefully, slowly tried to readjust her coat so that she could see better, but her hands were still shaking from the adrenaline. The wool slipped from her fingers for just an instant, and the heavy cloth rustled like the howl of a foghorn in the silence. His head quickly turned, and those eyes focused directly on hers, even through the darkness. She knew he couldn't really see her, but her heart still seemed to cease beating. His brow wrinkled. She could see the tightness in his face.

Emma realized as the pit grew in her stomach that this was the first time his presence had ever caused her to feel any fear. She actually felt real fear. He looked every bit the predator his voice had betrayed him to be, and she felt like a mouse trapped in a corner under his gaze. He was in his element, completely in control, Captain of his ship and about to bed the fucking Evil Queen. Was this really the same man she'd gotten to know over those past few months?

She could tell by the way his eyes wavered and searched that the darkness still hid from his sight, but for how long? As he took a step towards her, that inexplicable fear sent a spasm through her legs. She actually wanted to run. She wanted to escape…

"_Captain," _came the sultry purr from inside his room, and his eyes shifted away. With only two quick, hard steps, he was suddenly gone. Just before the door slammed shut behind him, she saw how he reached for Regina, grabbed her. Once the door fell shut, she let the coat fall to the ground in a soft sigh.

He was in there, now, with her. With the woman who wanted nothing more than to take her son away, to strand her and her family in a hostile world. It had all meant nothing to him.

Even after returning for her…after the way he'd looked at her on the docks of Storybrooke that day and offered everything he had to save her son...none of it really mattered to him. He was still just the same conniving bastard that he'd always been, but now there was something darker, almost terrifying about him. She wondered how she'd never noticed it before.

And then Regina. Regina, the woman who had asked to die as herself, not the "Evil Queen" she had become…she still wanted Henry. She still wanted to take Henry away from her forever. Emma dug nails into both her palms, the muscles all the way up her arms tensing from the pressure. She felt a hot wetness prick her eye for the slightest instant before letting the rage overtake her. She rose from the crouch and kicked the coat away from her.

No. She was here to find Henry, to protect him, to bring him back home. Nothing was going to stop her, not Regina, not fucking Captain Hook. She crossed the space in quick strides, stopping just before the door. Her hand hovered above the handle, ready to bust it forward, break up whatever disgusting and primal scene they were playing out behind it. She wanted her hands around Regina's neck, and her fist in his face.

"Stop," a commanding voice suddenly said, and she froze. Hook's. She pulled her hand away from the handle as if it had shocked her.

"What is it?" she heard Regina's breathy response. Emma shook her head, and gripped her hand around the handle again. She was going to stop them…

"Leave it. Just leave it on."

"Well that seems hardly fair. _My_ shirt was the first piece to go…"

"Regina, leave it," he said, voice low, menacing. Emma felt her skin prickle.

"If you insist." Regina replied, almost wistfully. Carnal noises all too soon bled through the planks again, and Emma felt her entire body burn as she hesitated. Did she really want to break in and see…

Her thoughts all came to a screeching halt when a heavy forced slammed into the door, rattling her eardrums and startling her so that she fell flat on her butt. Ashamed of her skittishness, she quickly tried to scramble back to her feet, but paused as she heard their voices again.

"You'll wake the others…" Regina breathed.

"Can't you put a damn spell over the room?" Hook replied, hard pants accentuating every word. A relentless, rhythmic pounding ensued against the door, and Emma caught her lip between her teeth, and biting down hard. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to hear another goddamned thing.

Just as she moved to stand, her hands momentarily braced on the floor just outside the door, a sudden, warm wind seemed to sweep through her, and before she could think to move away, to escape the electrical pull in the air, all other sounds around her seemed to quiet…vanish. The waves were no longer audible through the hull, David's snores no longer echoed, only…

"God," Regina whispered, reverently. The pounding became more erratic, uneven. Hook's hard breathing and the sound of flesh against flesh filled every last void around her. Her hands and knees seemed glued to the floor, her face a mere inch from the door's wood. Her own breath hitched when she caught a glimpse of skin through a crack between the boards.

No, no way in hell was this happening to her. She tried to pull away, yanking her body backwards until it felt like her arms were about to be ripped from their sockets. Nothing in any world was enough to make her want to stay there listening to them, to him…

"Harder," Regina's voice came. A raspy, broken moan followed her request, and Emma suddenly saw, as if she were seeing it through Regina's own eyes, his head thrown back, face lax with ecstasy, his high cheeks flushed and those wet lips parted. The image startled her so badly that she jumped, her very soul screaming at her to get away, break the hold. To her utter astonishment, her hands and knees suddenly came unglued from the floor, and she lurched backwards, her body free from whatever spell Regina had used to encase the room and their cries. The soft roar of the waves rolled back over her like the feel of a cool cloth over sunburn. Every part of her felt scorched. She was panting almost as hard as they had been, sweat running down her neck and back in rivulets.

The cabin in front of her was now utterly silent. Still as the grave.


	3. Chapter 3

**First of all, let me say again how freaking amazing all you guys are! I've really felt inspired by your support and awesome commentary, and I'm super excited to share this chapter with you. I see this story hitting a turning point pretty soon, and all this fun Captain Swan angsty stuff will pay off, I promise ;) I know he's an asshole right now, but I feel like this is also kind of an important part of his character. I sorta feel bad about making him all evil-like, but JUST WAIT. Love you guys! Enjoy!**

Previously, in _DOWN THE MAELSTROM:_

"_Harder," Regina's voice came. A raspy, broken moan followed her request, and Emma suddenly saw, as if she were seeing it through Regina's own eyes, his head thrown back, face lax with ecstasy, his high cheeks flushed and those wet lips parted. The image startled her so badly that she jumped, her very soul screaming at her to get away, break the hold. To her utter astonishment, her hands and knees suddenly came unglued from the floor, and she lurched backwards, her body free from whatever spell Regina had used to encase the room and their cries. The soft roar of the waves rolled back over her like the feel of a cool cloth over sunburn. Every part of her felt scorched. She was panting almost as hard as they had been, sweat running down her neck and back in rivulets. _

_The cabin in front of her was now utterly silent. Still as the grave. _

**CHAPTER 3 – MUTINY**

"I'd say that's a rather odd place for you to be, dearie," a voice suddenly struck through the quiet dark, and she jumped to her feet. Gold stood before her, leaning heavily on his cane.

"I…I tripped," she said, automatically. She almost felt as though she'd been caught doing something wrong, as if those conniving bastards didn't deserve to have their conversation overheard. As if she didn't have every right to know just what the hell they were up to…

"_Harder…"_

"Something the matter? Waiting to speak with our illustrious Captain, perhaps?" Gold asked, a faint gleam in his eye. Emma realized it in that instant. _He knows._

"What are you doing out of you cabin? I thought you needed rest since the magic here is different," she said, trying to turn the topic away to anything else but the giant fucking elephant in the room.

It_ was_ actually the first time she had laid eyes on him in three days. Emma hadn't really minded his absence since it meant less tension on deck, but she couldn't help but feel apprehensive as he watched her now. She couldn't figure out what, but there was something different about him. There was almost a higher lilt to his voice, and his eyes seemed strange. She couldn't see clearly in the darkness, and he had stopped just before reaching the light, as if he knew exactly where her clearest field of vision ended. How had he even managed to sneak up on her with that noisy cane?

"I do require rest," he answered her, "but my suspicious nature couldn't help but be aroused when I sensed Regina's magic in the air. She's in there, isn't she?" He pointed to Hook's door with his cane. Emma felt her face flush as the pounding rhythm the two had made against it echoed in her head. Her chest clenched.

"I wouldn't know," she answered, perhaps a bit too quickly. The words were out before Emma could consider just why she was lying for them, why she didn't want to discuss what she had heard with Gold. Some part of her felt wrong about it, felt that there was no way he couldn't have overheard the conversation as well. She equated it to just being cautious, reasoning that it was safer if everyone just thought she was clueless. But, she did know Gold was historically someone with his own agenda, and if Regina and Hook were so willing to turn their backs on everyone, she shuddered to think what Gold himself might have planned. In that moment, she began to understand just how vulnerable she and her parents really were. The hope and relief she had felt before, when everyone boarded the ship in Storybrooke with the sole purpose of rescuing Henry, was now slowly fading away into reality.

Unfortunately, her kind of reality.

"Like I said," she continued, "I just tripped. I was headed up for some air."

"I see. Well, she's not with the others, and I don't hear her blasted pacing above us. Where else could she be?" Gray, crooked teeth gleamed back at her, and she couldn't help but take a step back. He was different. The changes were subtle, perhaps not noticeable separately, but when he smiled like that, it was almost as if they came together to form the whole picture. He was almost more...was animalistic the right word? Otherworldly?

"Look, can we just stop talking about this right now?" she said, turning her eyes away and glancing at the stairs behind her. "I don't know what the hell she's doing, or where she is. And I don't care."

"Of course not," Gold chuckled after a moment, his eyes dark and void of any real humor, "but if you do happen to see her, or the Captain, let them know that some people are trying to sleep. If I wanted to hear the good Captain moaning all damn night long, I'd have locked him in my torture cell long ago."

Emma could only stare at his back as he retreated into his room, that cane of his striking a cadenced, somehow sinister beat against the worn boards. Like a clock ticking.

The handle on Hook's door squeaked beside Emma once Gold's door closed, and she fought the frantic urge to dart away, or hide in the shadows again. She wouldn't have had enough time anyway. Shit.

She tried to stand taller, defiant, even though her insides cringed and burned. She focused her mind on the excuse she had given Gold, and stood her ground, ready to confront them with questions that she already knew the answers to.

Emma knew that she had to keep up the act, no matter what. She had the advantage now, she knew what they were plotting. Her hand squeezed itself into a fist as she breathed outward. Life had demanded that she acquire the necessary skills to lie convincingly, even from an early age. This was nothing new. How many times has she gone on "dates" with rapists and thieves and gangbangers in her job as a bail bondsman, and had to smile in their faces as she thought out the best way to slam their faces into the ground? This was cake. She sucked as much air in as her diaphragm would allow and focused on exhaling.

Regina's red, glistening face was the first thing that Emma saw come through the door, her blouse loose and un-tucked. Her usually careful make-up was smeared, the shadow smudged under her eyes – eyes that sparkled with something akin to triumph, as it she'd just won a fucking marathon.

"Did you enjoy the show, Emma?"

Black eyes locked with hers, and Hook's face flashed in her mind again. It suddenly felt like someone had punched a hole through her stomach.

"I tried to give you a view at the end, but you broke my spell instead of relishing in it." She shook her head, tousled black locks rustling in cords bonded together with sweat. "Your loss. And honestly, did you really think I wouldn't be able to tell that you were there, inside the influence of my own magic?"

In less than the second it took for Regina to finish speaking, reason suddenly became an alien concept to Emma. An impossibility. How couldn't she confront them? How was she supposed to stand there with a stupid look on her face and babble on about how she hadn't overheard a thing? That she only stumbled upon them once they were already inside his cabin? Without a second thought, without time to imagine the consequences, Emma closed the distance between them and gripped a handful of Regina's hair, and slammed her head against the wall. The look of shear shock and panic on her face brought Emma more joy than any one night stand with a sleaze-bag pirate could have.

The blow left Regina dazed, unable to focus and strike back. Emma took the chance and slammed her fist into her face, relishing in the feel of the skin on her lip splitting beneath her knuckles.

"How fucking dare you threaten to take Henry away from me! After everything you said…after I let the others convince me to try to save your life!"

Emma felt the rage burning through her, fierce and hot. She was tired of all the lies, all the betrayal. Her hands ached with the desire to wrap them around Regina's neck, to slam her head against the wall again…

"What in the world is going on?" Mary Margaret's frantic voice filled the corridor, David's heavy footsteps right behind her.

"I suggest you restrain your daughter, Charming," Regina said, her voice raspy. The gloating look of triumph she'd worn only seconds before had been quickly replaced with a dark sort of fury. "Or, we'll be down a crew member. Permanently."

"Restrain her!" Emma yelled, incensed. "She's the one who's planning to leave us all behind, to take Henry away…"

"What? Emma what are you talking about? What is going on here?" Mary Margaret asked, her hands grasping Emma's shoulders. She shook them off and backed away from everyone.

"I heard her and – " Emma glanced over, now able to see into Hook's cabin. He was leaning against the right wall, just inside so that he was out of the others' view. His hook jutted out from beside his left hip, while his hand worked to pull a sleeve more securely over his shoulder. His face was still flushed, smoldering in the candle light, lips pressed firmly together. His shirt was rumpled, gaping even further than before, and angry red marks trailed down his chest and onto his stomach. The sight of him made her stomach clench. "_Him," _she breathed, the fury so fierce now that it was almost palpable, tangible, something that she could gather and fling at them both –

"Heard what?" David asked, snapping her attention back.

Emma took a breath, trying to push the murderous, and even more terrifying thoughts away. "They were both up on deck, talking about how once we made port, they were going to sail the ship off and abandon us on the island while they searched for Henry separately. _And then leave us behind._ I heard it clear as day."

David stepped in front of Regina, his arms crossed and stance solid. "Is this true? After everything we did for you. After all the chances, after saving your life…"

"Save it Charming," she cut him off, the very air bristling around here. Emma felt the hair on her arms and neck stand on end. "I don't think you people realize just what kind of position you're in." Regina's eyes were gleaming, her wicked smile just as enraging as ever. "Gold and I are the only ones on here who can wield magic, effectively," she said, glancing at Emma, "and as it so happens, we have both come to an understanding."

"What kind of understanding?" Mary Margaret asked, now standing beside David. Her voice was no longer questioning, or concerned. It was steady, steady and deadly. Emma was suddenly reminded of the time they spent together in the Enchanted Forest. Her mother must have come to the same conclusion as she – that they had little to no chance of getting Henry back if Regina and Gold both decided to work against them. Something had to be done fast.

Her mother's face was set, and Emma noticed that her hand had been making steady progress to her pocket. The pocket in which she knew she kept her dagger. If Mary Margaret could distract Regina just long enough for her to run to the room and grab her gun…

"I wouldn't, milady," came his voice, low and menacing. Much too close. Just as Emma realized Hook was no longer in the cabin, she felt the press of cold steel against her neck as a strong arm wrestled both of hers behind her back. She struggled, but the hook only bit deeper.

"No, stop!" Mary Margaret cried, her hand coming away from her pocket.

"You son of a bitch!" Emma yelled, ignoring the sharp pain. It couldn't end this way, she couldn't let them stop her. She wasn't going to be a fucking mouse trapped in a corner. She didn't care how goddamned much he might have scared her before, nothing was going to get between her and Henry. Nothing.

She fought hard to free her arms, but at the angle he held them it was impossible to get leverage. She could feel the friction on her bare back from rubbing against the skin on his chest as she struggled harder. She suppressed a shudder when his stubble ran across her cheek.

"You're only making this harder on yourself, love. Just relax," he breathed into her ear, almost too soft to hear. If he hadn't been threatening to gouge a hole in her neck, she might have said that he sounded remorseful, but actions always trumped words.

Emma watched as David started towards them, his face a mask of fury. She felt an all too brief moment of hope, until he was suddenly lifted off his feet with a wave of Regina's hand, and thrown into the wall. He fell to the ground, body twisted and motionless.

"Dad!"

"David!" Mary Margaret and Emma cried at the same time, and Emma could see the conflict in her mother's eyes. She could see Mary Margaret wavering between them, before she finally focused on Regina. "Why? How could you…how could any of this possibly help Henry? He needs all of us!"

"Wrong," Regina said, and seemed to draw what Emma thought looked like the stripe of a peppermint candy in mid-air. Mary Margaret suddenly went stock still, her arms clamped at her sides as she fell to the ground.

"Leave them alone!" Emma screamed, struggling even harder. Hook began dragging her backwards, away from them. "Let me go you bastard!" she screamed, kicking her legs and tugging back. She couldn't leave her parents alone with them, she couldn't. "Gold!" she cried, her one last resort, watching as Regina stood over her mother's helpless, bound form. "Gold you can't let them do this! What about Henry? What about Neal?! You know he wouldn't have wanted this! Gold!"

"Shut it already, lass. You should know by now that the Crocodile doesn't give a damn about you or your parents. Your pleas are falling on deaf ears."

"Let me go!" She jerked her head back, trying to hit his face, but it met nothing but air. She stomped her heel, trying to crack the fragile bones of his instep, but only met wood. He seemed to predict every move she made. The smell of his sweat surrounded her as his progress down the corridor continued.

She heard his boot kick something behind them when he reached the end of the hall, and she suddenly felt herself being flung into a dark room, one she hadn't been in before. The door snapped shut behind her even as she flung herself against it, pounding on it with every bit of strength she had left.

"And what about you, you fucking idiot? What about Milah? You're going to work with her murderer just so you can save your own sorry ass?" she yelled, the words ripping at her throat.

"Have a care, Swan," she heard through the door, a sharp edge to his voice. "You're still on my ship, and you're not exactly safe in there. Just give me a reason to open that door."

She could hear him so clearly that his lips must have been right over the door-jam. She slammed it with both her palms again so that it was forced outward in the loose frame, and she almost smiled when she felt it hit something and heard the cursing ensue.

"Well that was stupid," Emma heard Regina say, the relaxed tone of her voice infuriating. She sounded as though she thought she'd already won.

"Shut the hell up," Hook growled, his voice muffled as if he held a hand over his mouth. Emma pounded on the door, throwing her body against it as hard as she could.

"We're all about to have a bit more peace and quiet around here," Regina answered, raising her voice, "now back away so I can do this."

Emma felt her heartbeat quicken, and she stopped. "What? Do what? What are you going to do with David and Mary Margaret? Dammit Regina, answer me! Hook!"

But no sound followed, no answer. No more of Hook's cursing. No more of Regina's maniacal laughter. Just like that, the familiar warm breeze of Regina's magic fell over the room, and soon not even the sound of the ocean could penetrate her cell.


	4. Chapter 4

**My favorite part about posting this story thus far has been the phenomenal responses that I get from you guys. Seriously, last chapter I just wanted to hug each and every one of you for actually investing your time and thoughts in my silly little story. Please, everyone, even the non-commenters, consider yourselves warmly hugged ;)**

**On to this chapter, I noticed that in the previous chapter there was some serious Hook-hate going on, and my twisted (slightly masochistic) mind loves it. Not because, mind you, I hate Hook (I've loved this character even before OUAT), but because it works for right now. Hopefully a bit of insight into his thoughts will clear the situation up a bit.**

**Oh, and just a bit of semi-useless info, all I've listened to as I've written this is the Dark Knight's score. It just…works *sigh*. Anywho, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!**

Previously, in _DOWN THE MAELSTROM:_

_She could hear him so clearly that his lips must have been right over the door-jam. She slammed it with both her palms again so that it was forced outward in the loose frame, and she almost smiled when she felt it hit something and heard the cursing ensue._

_ "Well that was stupid," Emma heard Regina say, the relaxed tone of her voice infuriating. She sounded as though she thought she'd already won. _

_ "Shut the hell up," Hook growled, his voice muffled as if he held a hand over his mouth. Emma pounded on the door, throwing her body against it as hard as she could._

_ "We're all about to have a bit more peace and quiet around here," Regina answered, raising her voice, "now back away so I can do this."_

_ Emma felt her heartbeat quicken, and she stopped. "What? Do what? What are you going to do with David and Mary Margaret? Dammit Regina, answer me! Hook!"_

_ But no sound followed, no answer. No more of Hook's cursing. No more of Regina's maniacal laughter. Just like that, the familiar warm breeze of Regina's magic fell over the room, and soon not even the sound of the ocean could penetrate her cell._

**Chapter 4 – Absolute Bearing**

"Jumping the gun as always, dear Regina."

Hook rubbed his nose one last time, his eyes falling on the last person he wanted to see. Rumplestiltskin stood outside his door, eyes darting across the ship's interior.

Bloody hell. The damn woman had been playing him from the start. He hadn't trusted her from the beginning, but even this had escaped him. He'd never thought to consider that Regina and Rumplestiltskin were both in on the plot together.

"What the hell is this, Regina?" Hook asked, his hand automatically going to check that his steel appendage was property secured. He quickly wiped the bit of Emma's blood off the tip with his sleeve, the sight of it making him ill.

"What do you think?" she smiled. With the tiniest movement of her fingers over her lip, the split that Emma had caused vanished.

"You knew that Swan had been listening?" Hook asked, doing his best to sound detached, unconcerned. It was getting to be more difficult by the moment. She'd heard…she was there…Regina knew – given her a fucking _view, _whatever the hell that meant. There was absolutely no going back now.

"Of course I did. Who do you think woke her before I left our room?"

The realization hit him like a canon. Regina had been pacing directly over his cabin those nights for a reason. She wanted him to come up above so that she could say those things, so that Emma would wonder why they were both there, so she could hear him agreeing to her plans…

"You wanted to ensure that I had nowhere else to go," he said, forcing what he hoped appeared as an amused grin. "Well, congratulations, you've succeeded. But, you must have realized that all this wasn't necessary. It doesn't take a genius to know that, when it came down to it, your side would obviously be the winning one. Especially since everyone's favorite coward is in on it as well."

"Careful Captain," Rumplestiltskin said, his voice low, dangerous. "We technically only need you to navigate the ship. But, it would be much easier for everyone if we could have a guide on the island as well. Keep that mouth of yours shut, and be a good pirate, so I won't have to kill you."

Hook was very careful to keep his face arranged in a blank fashion. He allowed a bit of the disgust that he felt towards Rumplestiltskin show through, because they expected that, but suppressed everything else. He suppressed the raw panic that threatened to overtake his senses, the desire to bury his sword and hook into both of their chests. _And after what he'd done with Regina, how Emma had been just outside the door…_

"I'm keeping my end of the bargain, aren't I?" Regina said, pulling him out of his thoughts, perhaps taking his silence as hesitation. "You are safe from Gold, for now. By aligning yourself with us, we can all rescue Henry together, and protect him better than those three ever could have. They would have only slowed us down, and you know it."

He glanced around the corridor, his eyes noting how still Snow remained on the floor, though her eyes were as alive and menacing as a lion's. David was still crumpled and unconscious, a thin stream of red marking his forehead. Finally, he glanced again at the silent storage room, not even a whisper emanating from between the door's boards.

"It seems so," he finally answered, forcing his tense muscles to relax. There wasn't a damn thing he could do for any of them now, not while they were all still trapped on his ship. There was quite literally nowhere to go, except the mermaid infested waters, and to touch even a toe in would mean a fate worse than even Regina or Rumplestiltskin could deliver. "Shall we hoist these two down into the hull, then?" he said, walking over and pushing his boot against David's shoulder. A strangled sort of noise broke out of Snow's throat, but Hook ignored it. He'd been able to move David just enough to see that his chest was still rising with breath.

"Actually, I was thinking it'd be much easier to just throw them overboard," Rumplestiltskin interjected, his voice cold and calculated. Hook's eyes immediately flashed upward. The beast sounded too much like he had right before…

"No," Regina said immediately. "Henry would only hate me if he thought I killed any of them. We'll lock them up in the hull, and leave Emma in that room. Once we rescue Henry, we'll just leave them on the island. Whatever happens after that, happens."

"Don't you think that would be leaving a bit too much to chance?" Rumplestiltskin said, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Who's to say they won't find a way off?"

"We'll be long gone before then. There are places we can hide, other worlds…"

"That's all well and fine, but I have no intention of squirreling myself away in another strange world, hiding from the likes of them." Gold twirled his cane beneath his palm. "Sooner or later, Regina, you had to know it would come to this."

"It would serve us better if they were kept alive," Hook said, thinking quickly. "We could use them to get in good with the natives. The tribe that lives on the island."

"The lost ones you talked about? Regina asked, jumping perhaps a bit too eagerly onto his train of thought. Gold's quick eyes watched her, and Hook just stopped himself from raising a brow. Already dissention in the ranks…

"No," Hook answered, walking away from David's still form. "There's another group that inhabits the island. Dark-skinned locals who are native to this world. I've bartered with them in the past."

"And just what would they want with these three?" Gold asked, his smile condescending.

"They're always looking for more laborers. I've traded a mutinous man or two on my crew before for provisions. The natives use them for slave labor. It's very difficult to grow a decent crop in Neverland's soil. It requires a great deal of work."

Hook watched as the wheels turned beneath Rumplestiltskin's greasy hair. The condescending smile suddenly vanished.

"They could help us," Regina nodded. "We could exchange the Charmings for information."

"The natives are well known for their tracking abilities too. With them on our side, we should be able to find the boy in two, perhaps three days tops," Hook smiled a bit more genuinely this time. It at least gave him more time to think. How he would release them once they reached the island was still a plan to be made, but then he'd always worked well under pressure.

Regina was still nodding. "It's settled then. We'll trade them to the natives. But are you sure that they'll be willing to help?"

"They are a simple folk, but once a deal is struck, they'd rather die than break it. Or kill, whichever is required. Much like your friend the Crocodile here," Hook answered her, his eyes lazily flicking over to Rumplestiltskin.

"If you're lying, Captain," Gold said, hobbling towards him. Hook held his ground as he stopped just inches away, "Rest assured, I will continue on my quest to ensure that every last moment of your pathetic life is as painful as possible. There are many other non-essential parts which I could remove, and they might mean a bit more to you than your left hand. Are we clear?"

Rumplestiltskin's breath was rank and hot on his face, the pits and pores of his cheeks and nose casting shadows in the dark so that he looked distorted, more creature-like. Closer to as he had appeared in the Enchanted Forest. Hook could feel the air around him alight with electricity, magic. He fought the urge to recoil from the beast.

"Clear as the blue seas beneath our feet," he finally replied, resisting the urge to kick the wooden cane out from under his hand. Rumplestiltskin's gaze seemed to bore into him, searching for hesitation, the slightest hint of falsity. Hook met his gaze, unblinking. He could just barely detect how the man's pupils had begun their transformation back into the reptile-like slits. He was changing – slowly, but surely, into the physical beast he'd been before. Neverland's magic might have been different and more unpredictable, but its effects were more or less the same. He didn't want to imagine just what the Crocodile would be capable of once he fully reverted.

It was like a twig had been snapped right beside his ear when Rumplestiltskin finally turned his back to him. The electricity all but vanished. Even Regina seemed to sag, as if a weight had been lifted. Hook rolled his shoulders, the familiar tug of the leather straps on his arm grounding him once more. Emma was still the only one to ever spot his lies.

"Let me know when land is in sight," he said, before closing his door. "But until then, no one is to disturb me, for anything."

"No worries, mate," Hook mumbled as the door banged loudly behind him. The pain that had started out as a twinge in his temples suddenly pounded like mallets on his skull. His attention turned once more to the couple on the floor.

Regina had crossed the floor, and was now crouching beside Snow. Her hand brushed away Snow's bangs, almost lovingly, and he saw how the Princess's eyes stared fiercely back.

"Believe it or now," Regina said to her, "I am doing this with Henry's best interests in mind. I want to protect him, and I will. I have no doubt that you'll escape the savages at some point, but until then you would do well to stow that bravado of yours. Emma will stay in that room, easily within my reach, just in case you or Charming decided to become a threat. No harm with come to either of you, or her, so long as we all cooperate. You have my word."

Snow suddenly moved, ever so slightly against Regina's magic. The Queen rose and backed away. "Still fighting me," she sighed. "You can try, but it's useless and you know it. Hook," she said, now looking at him, "Drag Charming below first, and toss her in after him."

He raised a brow at the command. "Surely you can do that with your magic."

"Just do as you're told. Or perhaps you require a hand?"

His lips quirked. "Quite amusing, but one would think that after all this time, you'd be able to come up with something more original." He walked the length of the corridor, until he reached the hatch in the floor. He opened it first, before walking back and sliding his arms under Charming's. He slowly, but steadily dragged his body to the hatch, the prince just heavy enough to be a pain, but not unmanageable. It was with little regret that he dumped him quite unceremoniously into the gaping hole, remembering all the different times he'd found himself on the other end of Charming's fist. A groggy moan echoed back up to him.

He was gentler with Snow, though it was quite unnerving as her eyes seemed to rip him apart, seam by seam as he carried her. It was easy for him to see the anxiety behind her anger though, and of course the fear. In that moment before he lowered her into the hull, there was an instant when the blackness began to envelop her pale face that a searing, stabbing shot of regret gripped his chest. She was clearly afraid, afraid for her daughter, her grandson, that damn prince…

A rare moment seized him. "Forgive me," he mouthed, just before her face disappeared below him and her body landed on the pile of spare canvas. He closed the hatch quickly, banishing the sight of her face from his mind, and Regina worked her silencing spell over the area.

"Well, that takes care of them," she beamed, exhaling a loud breath. "I have to say it was easier than I expected. You turned out to be quite helpful, Captain," she said, her eyes raking over him. He became uncomfortably conscious of how his shirt still gaped, and how his hair and face were still dampened with sweat from their earlier encounter. The fresh welts on his chest from her fingernails stung, and he just barely suppressed the rush of bile that rushed up his throat. What the bloody hell had he been thinking?

"Are you alright?" she asked him, and he left the thought unfinished. It was almost amusing that she actually managed to sound concerned.

"I'm simply lovely, thank you for asking."

"I know this wasn't exactly what you expected, but nothing has really changed. You were willing to set aside your revenge before. All that is different now is you don't have to worry about Gold killing you."

"And, of course," he added, "there's the three prisoners who'd like nothing more now than to cut my handsome head off. But other than that small detail, everything's the same. Decidedly the same."

"Relax, Captain," she said, her voice low. Confident. "The spell I' using to keep things quiet also serves as an entrapment spell. They might as well have a concrete barrier completely encasing them. Nothing, not even sound, can get in or out without my express permission."

"I'd be more reassured if I knew what the bloody hell concrete was," he said, rolling his eyes away from her. It almost startled him when he suddenly felt her hand fall over his chest. His body stiffened beneath it, and not in the good way.

"You know, part of the deal I made with Gold involved me ripping your heart out and keeping it. So you'd be my own slave. No longer any threat to us." Her nails grazed his skin as she raked them downward, irritating the marks already there. He tried to move away, out from under her touch, but something held him there. It suddenly felt as though ropes had been lashed around his body, her magic nearly searing his skin. "But," her hand stopped. "I've discovered that the sex is generally better when a man has his own motivations. His own passion, his own hate."

The last word resonated in the now quiet hall. Despite himself, Hook felt his throat go dry, and not from desire or lust. Fear.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" he asked, working very hard to keep his voice steady.

"Did you think I didn't notice?" she said, eyes alight with dark humor. "The way you immediately went to her, dragged her out of the line of fire. _Protected her?_"

It took everything in him to remain focused on her, to keep his eyes from moving to the storage room…

"She's not just my weapon against Snow White and Prince Charming. She's my only, and greatest weapon against you."

"I have no idea – "

" – what I'm talking about. Of course you don't. At least, you would never admit it willingly. But I...I can make you admit it. I will. With one, simple test."

"I think the seasickness is getting to you, love," he replied, even as a bead of sweat streaked down his face and dangled on his chin. "Forgive my insolence, but you do sound quite manic…"

A rush of hot, scorching air suddenly rose up around them, and all of the sudden, Emma's cries from within the room were audible, painfully audible, the silence around them shattered into a million agonizing pieces.

"Regina? Regina! You have to let me out! You will not take my son away from me!" Her hands were pounding on the door, the noise echoing throughout the ship and assaulting his ears. "I swear to God, or whatever the hell you believe in, that I will find a way to protect him! Henry needs me, Regina, he'll never forgive you!"

The last word was broken by a half sob, her voice broken. Hook's eyes closed of their own accord.

"Hook!" she suddenly cried a moment later, "Hook listen to me! I swear, I swear the moment I get out of here you're dead! Buried and dead! How could you do this? I trusted you! After you came back – " her voice broke again. "Hook!"

Her fists continued to pound on the door with a relentless and excruciating kind of desperation. She was hurting herself, it had to be hurting her…

"Enough!" he yelled, voice loud and piercing. The pounding stopped, and he could hear Emma's heavy breathing on the other side. Just like that, Regina's magic flew outward again, sealing the room. Sealing Emma.

The invisible ropes around him vanished, and Regina stepped away. "You see. I told you."

"What the fucking hell do you want out of me?" he yelled, all pretenses of pleasantries gone. All he felt was this rage, a rage he thought he could only feel towards Rumplestiltskin. He wanted her dead. He wanted to kill her, lock her in a room where no one could hear her screams, bury her alive in a tiny coffin…

"Everything," she answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I want you to obey me in every way. Whether I want you to fuck my brains out, or drag her mother and father kicking and screaming to those savages you told us about. You'll be grateful, too, since I'm not going to kill any of them and you'll get to keep your black heart. Just do as I say, and perhaps I'll even let Emma see Henry one more time before I remove him from her influence once and for all."

"You've really lost it this time, Highness," he said, his own voice hoarse. "I don't give a damn about that woman or her family. I'm here for Milah. I'm here for her grandson. For Bae. It doesn't matter to me whom I'm aligned with so far as he has the best chance – "

"Prove it," she said, her eyes too wide…too bright. The face now staring back at him was one he'd never seen from her before. Not even when she'd shoved him off that cliff to die back in Storybrooke –

"You've gone mad," he said, the words final and terrifying on his lips.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Wow, so this chapter was a pain to write when I originally forced it out, and it was a pain to edit (hence the delay) these past few days, but I think I finally have it where I want it. It's longer, more thought-centered, and thus slightly more abstract than the others so far, but everything is pretty important. From the end of this chapter and onward, things are definitely going to change. We have practically reached the turning point, ladies and gentlemen, and you may take that as you may ;)**

**Oh, and by the way, 40 FREAKIN FOLLOWERS? I'm blown away. Each and every one of you awesome people are amazing, and you have my sincerest thanks for spending your time and thoughts and reviews on my little story ;) Love you guys! I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 5 – Astarboard**

Emma never knew that silence could be so suffocating. The only sound to be heard in the whole of her dark, stifling world was the rhythm of her frantic pulse and rapid breaths. It terrified her more than a goddamn dragon or ogre ever could have.

"Let me out!" she yelled for the thousandth time, throwing her body against the door in a brain-jarring jolt. She filled the dead void around her again with the sounds of her own flesh and bones colliding with the door, over and over. Her shoulders and arms were already scraped raw and bleeding from the wood's rough texture, and the muscle beneath her skin was purpling, bruising. She felt every shock like a blow from a Muay Thai fighter, but she couldn't stop.

The door appeared so flimsy, the boards warped and decaying from being God knows how long at sea, but it never gave an inch. Emma realized fairly quickly after her first few attempts that Regina must have enchanted it, just as she had cast that spell over Hook's room, but that didn't mean she could stop trying. She'd broken that spell before, hadn't she? She had magic, didn't she? Every time her body smashed against it, she told herself, _"Just one more time. I just need to concentrate more, want it more...hit the damn thing harder..." _

Earlier, when the silence had been lifted briefly, ever so briefly, she'd thought that she'd won. It had given her fucking hope. When the sound of the waves had reached her again, she had screamed and pled and tried break the door with a renewed fury. She'd honestly thought that she had broken through the spell, and nothing could have stopped her. They just needed to hear her...if they could just hear her, if Hook could just hear her...

_"Enough!"_

Hook's cry had stopped her, the command slicing through the air like a whip. His voice, strange and foreign, carried something in it that she'd only caught glimpses of in the past - when she left him on the beanstalk, when he'd been in that hospital bed without even the slightest hint of remorse in his eyes, when he'd been standing over Gold with his bloodied hook -

She was immediately reminded of the way he'd appeared just before going in his cabin with Regina. Dark, menacing, _dangerous. _She raised her hand and cupped the place on her neck where his hook had sliced into her skin, and noticed for the first time that her necklace was missing, too.

Emma had never bought the notion that pirates were romantic, sympathetic kinds of characters. She hated all those ridiculous romance novels and movies that tried to make them out to be heroes, or slightly misguided rogues who always defended a lady and only stole from the wealthy.

People didn't get that pirates were only criminals. Thieves, rapists, murderers. The pirates of her world carried AK-47s, killed innocent merchants and traders, beat women and raped them.

_Who the hell was I kidding? I don't know him at all, and how could I?_

Once that warm wind of Regina's magic came over her again, stealing her breath, plunging her into that heavy silence yet again, she could do little more than stand where she was, the scream she wanted so badly to release caught in her throat, lodged there like a heavy brick. The quiet sunk again into every corner of the room, pervaded every fissure, and hung like a smothering blanket in the air.

"No," she'd whispered, the word barely more than a breath. "No, NO!" she finally yelled, kicking her boots against the door, her very bones protesting the sharp reverberations that sketched their way up her legs and torso. She threw herself against it again and again, but it only felt like she was throwing herself against a steel slab. Useless. Nothing. Nothing she did could budge it, nothing she thought, felt, or wanted could get her out of that room.

Emma only stopped he assault on the door when her body was incapable of continuing, when there was no more breath to be had in her lungs. She slowly, gingerly sunk down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, her legs splayed open in front of her. She let her body go limp.

"Stop and think," she said aloud, cringing when her voice didn't even echo in the room. It was as if the darkness had sucked it up, pulled it into some black hole. Her shallow, rapid breaths fell in tune with her pulse, and the pounding beat filled her head.

She reached for the hair tie in the pocket of her pants, and swept the long, heavy hair off her sticky face and neck. Cool air tickled her damp skin, but just that bit of movement sent fresh needles of pain through her shoulders, and she glanced at her arms. The shaft of moonlight a single porthole cast into the room revealed the extent of the damage she had done to herself. "Fantastic," she huffed, holding her hands around the rawest parts of her skin. Obviously her tactics weren't working. She tried to clear her head, to focus on other options.

A thought suddenly struck her, one that made her insides shrivel and prickle. _Even if she did manage to break out, what would she do? Where could she go? _Regina and Gold were out there, hopped up on Neverland's special brand of magic juice, and she couldn't even fight off that damn one-handed pirate.

And her parents. Emma didn't know what had happened to Mary Margaret and David. The memory of Regina sending David airborne and then "crack" against the wall struck her without warning, and before she knew it, hot tears threatened her vision.

"Dammit, get a hold of yourself, Swan!" she yelled to herself, quickly wiping the tears away with the heels of her hands. This wasn't working.

She stood up again, her back and head protesting the movement. She glanced around the room, and tried to take in her surroundings better. She figured that the room itself was some sort of storage closet, a bit bigger than a pantry, but smaller than her old Boston apartment's bedroom. Three wooden barrels occupied the far right corner, and rough-hewn shelves were stacked along the back wall. Sacks of what looked like grain and flour sat all along the floor, as well as coils of thick, heavy rope. That single porthole, no bigger than her head provided the only bit of light in the room. It sat between two of the back shelves, and she angled her head down so that she could peer out.

She was startled when a bright flash nearly blinded her. She blinked away the spots left in her eyes, and for a moment couldn't comprehend just what she was seeing. No stars were visible in the night sky, no moon. _But wasn't it supposed to be morning by now?_ She could just barely make out the frothy, swirling whitecaps on the waves as the ocean churned. Ocean spray flew up into the air as the wind caught it, creating a heavy, thick haze over the dark and violent surface. Another flash made her pull back, shielding her eyes with an arm.

It looked like a hurricane has suddenly sprung up around them, and yet the spell Regina has used completely blocked what must have been a ferocious, monstrous sound. The ship didn't even feel as if the waves were pitching it. The boards were steady under her feet. It was like she'd d been trapped in some sort of floating, impenetrable bubble.

Something was bound to give sooner or later. There was no way Regina could keep this up forever, especially in these conditions. Her eyes went back to scanning the room, searching for something, anything that she might be able to use. Another agonizing sliver of hope buried itself in her heart.

Another flash of lightening made her blink, but in the receding light, something gleamed and caught her eye. On the middle shelf, closest to the wall, something shiny and metallic glinted under a black rag. It was something so utterly out of place within the medieval vessel that she almost laughed, unable to believe her eyes.

A freaking hammer. A pristine, rubber-handled, Ace Hardware hammer sat on that middle hand-cut shelf, beside a rather large container of steel nails. A single hole had been popped in the top of the clear plastic box, and about half of the nails were missing.

The sliver of hope grew, and she couldn't help the wide grin broke out across her face. "What else you got?" she mumbled, now encouraged, eager even. Emma tore the room apart, moving bags, looking in every last wooden box and on every shelf for more tools. She wondered just when the hell Hook had the time to raid a hardware store when her search revealed a simple, but sharp handsaw, some screws (though there wasn't a screwdriver in sight), sandpaper, and a new, fresh coil of nylon rope, maybe 20 feet long.

"What, no buzz-saw?" she asked the air, the treasures spread out before her on top of the wooden barrels. She felt richer than fucking Sinbad. The hammer should could definitely use, and with the half-box of nails and handsaw, she considered herself practically armed. She stuffed her pockets tight with the long nails, and wrapped the cord diagonally across her body.

_"You're really into this, aren't you?" Hook asked, lips quirking in amusement. The handcuff rattled against the bedrail._

"Only with you," she answered the too-clear memory, the words hanging strange and awkward in the air.

He or Regina would have to come in the room at some point, whether to drag her out and toss her overboard, or to bring water, food. Unless…she wondered if maybe they'd just leave her sealed in the room so that she slowly starved to death. Perhaps even Regina could use her magic from outside to snap her neck in two…

_Woah. God, back it up, Swan,_ she chided herself, baffled by dark path her mind had so suddenly traveled down. It had been far too easy as of late for her thoughts to stray down the alleys and roads in her mind that led to those terrifying places she tried to keep locked away.

From the first moment that portal spat the ship out into emerald-blue waters, under a violet-toned sky and red sun, she'd found herself dwelling far too much on everything that could go wrong, and even all those buried memories she'd tried so hard to block - like a dam had been blasted apart in her mind. Neal's last words to her before he was ripped away haunted her both in waking hours and dreams. The memory of the doctors taking Henry away just after he was born would often bleed into those horrifying hours when she thought Regina had killed him, and then into that moment when his small body had disappeared off the dock in Storybrooke.

At first she chalked the restless nights and unusually vivid nightmares up to symptoms of the sheer worry she felt for the kid...but even as she stood in that storage room, the first viable shred of hope spread before her in a handyman's basic tool kit, something seemed off.

She glanced down at her arms again, the slick wounds she had caused now congealed and crusty. She shifted her weight, feeling where her legs were sore from all the kicking, and she automatically wiped her face, even though her brief tears had long since dried.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

As she thought back to when she'd eavesdropped outside Hook's cabin and remembered how her whole body had gone so hot despite the way her very fucking soul had cringed, she realized how it all felt…wrong. She didn't act like this. She didn't feel like this. And, despite everything she'd already been through in life, she always at least tried to think her way around problems instead of beating her body to a pulp as she tried to force a solution.

Well…if necessary, that had always a reliable plan B, but never a plan A.

And Regina…Emma knew and understood the lengths she'd go to in order to keep Henry. She knew that she'd use whatever tactics were necessary to keep him, but this was rash. Even if she had planned to take Henry away in the end, why wouldn't she at least take advantage of everyone else's capabilities up until then? David wasn't some kind of powerful sorcerer, but he knew his way around weapons, and Mary Margaret's tracking, hunting, and camouflage skills were unmatched from years of hiding from the freaking Evil Queen herself. Things weren't adding up, and Hook's betrayal was just the damn maraschino cherry on top.

She couldn't help but wonder whether something could have been influencing them. She couldn't help but wonder just what the hell Neverland itself was capable of.

On impulse, she lifted the metal hammer into her hand, gripping the rubber, testing the implement's weight in her palm. It felt damn good. It grounded her. Memories from her time at one of the few foster homes in which she'd actually been happy came back to her. Memories of helping Mr. Johnson build a bookcase, Ms. Anna hanging a picture of her in a graduation gown…

"I can do this," she sighed, her voice steadier than it had been before. Her mouth twisted into a wry smile, and she couldn't resist the words that came out of her mouth next.

"Just think happy thoughts."

God the irony made her want to puke.

If magic had a price in her world and in the Enchanted Forest, she was betting that it had one here, too. Perhaps one that was even greater. Magic wasn't the solution to her problems, and she decided then and there that she was done with it. Whether she had the potential or not, Emma knew that she would rather have a hammer in her hand than some flimsy magic wand, staff, whatever. This was what she knew; this was what she could control. If only she could get her hands on her gun…

_She'd what? Shoot Gold? Shoot Regina? Kill Hook?_

She waited for the resounding "no" to echo in her head, but it never came. A strange quiet came over her mind as she actually found herself considering the question. Her gun couldn't kill Regina, and it couldn't kill Gold, but maybe if she aimed for their heads…maybe if they were caught by surprise…could she do it? And Hook…she could be completely rid of him once and for all. No more betrayals, no more false hope and unwelcome thoughts... no more confusion.

As if the world around her suddenly decided to mimic the chaos in her brain, without warning the ship pitched hard to the left, and she was sent sprawling into the bags of grain on the floor. The items on the shelves were only stopped from falling on her by the thin wooden rails that held them back. The hull around her exploded into a chorus of groans and bangs, and she could all at once hear the ocean's roar just outside, and the snap of thunder overhead. Before she could even process what was happening, the ship pitched again, and this time she was sent to the other side of the room, unable to halt her momentum. It was –

Loud.

It was loud. She could hear the ship fighting against the waves, the crush of the water causing its hull to moan. She could hear more sharp peals of thunder as they rolled over the ship, over her. The silence had been broken. The spell was gone.

She quickly braced herself against the boards and hauled herself to the door, the hammer gripped in two hands. Without a second's hesitation she slammed it against the metal lock, over and over, harder and harder each time. Something must have happened to Regina, and her mind was telling her to calm down, to collect her wits, but her adrenaline had taken over. This was her chance.

The glorious sound of wood splintering and metal clanging, chipping, soon filled the room. She couldn't imagine what was waiting for her on the other side, where Gold or Hook might have been, but she didn't care. She had to get out, had to do something to fight back. There was no way in hell she could give up now. Her parents needed her, Henry needed her…

"Emma?"

The sound of her name broke through the banging, and she stopped.

"Emma!"

It was her, Mary Margaret…

"Emma, step away from the door," David's voice called out to her from the other side, and she felt sudden tears of absolute, sheer fucking joy well in her eyes. She didn't bother brushing them away this time, either.

"Mom! Dad!" she called out, her heart very nearly in her throat as relief swelled in her chest.

A resounding _crack _assaulted her eardrums as the door suddenly flung inwards, half-way falling off its hinges. David…her father stood inside the room now, panting ever so slightly, absentmindedly rubbing his arm. She didn't even give him a chance to catch his breath. Emma flung her arms around his shoulders, resisting the urge to cry and just clinging all the tighter. His arms immediately came around her back, and he held her as Mary Margaret wrapped herself around them both.

"We were so worried about you," David said, still breathless.

"Me? You were the one knocked out on the floor the last time I saw you," she half-laughed against his chest, nearly even smiling.

"Emma, what happened to you?" Mary Margaret suddenly asked, her voice full of concern, worry. Emma saw that her eyes were on the marks that covered her arms.

David gently pushed her away and held her at arms' length. When he saw them, the look that formed in his eyes almost scared her.

"Did Hook do this to you?" he asked, voice low and eyes narrowed.

"No," she sighed, "Not really. But I can explain later. We need -"

"- to figure out how to stop them," Mary Margaret finished her sentence, picking up her train of thought. She laid a hand on David's arm. "Any ideas?"

"Yeah, I've got one," he answered. "You two grab what supplies you can and meet me on deck. Even if we have to swim for it, we have to get off this boat. It shouldn't take too long for me to deal with them. Hook and Regina are mine."

"No," Emma said, the strength of the word startling even her. Both Mary and David turned to stare. "I mean," she backed up quickly, "what about Gold? I'm pretty sure he knows that we're free, but he hasn't shown his face yet. And Regina, why isn't she down here trying to stop us? Why did her spell lift? Something's not adding up and I don't like it."

Mary Margaret chewed her lip for a moment before nodding. "She's right. We need to stay together. We're stronger that way."

David took a moment before answering, his eyes wavering back and forth between them and the steps that led up to the deck.

"Fine, but you two stay behind – " his words faltered under Mary Margaret's stare. "I mean, you're right, we'll do this together. We'll do whatever we have to do."

"To save Henry," Emma added, the deadly tone of his voice stirring nerves within her. She'd never heard him sound like that before.

"For Henry," he agreed, his face softening slightly. "For all of us."

They made their way into the corridor, but before they could make any progress the ship suddenly lurched beneath them, the very bottom falling out from under their feet as they were thrown into each other, rolling down the sharply angled deck until the wall stopped them.

"Snow, Emma!" came David's frantic cry. He'd wrapped them both in his arms as best he could and taken the brunt of the blow.

"I'm fine," Emma said, though her head pounded from where it had struck the floor. "Mom?"

"I'm good," she answered, both of them struggling to untangle themselves and find stable footing. "David?"

"Fine. We need to get up there now and see what the hell's going on. That didn't feel like a wave."

"What do you mean? What else could it have been?" Emma asked, her gaze on the stairs. Rain and sea-water were pouring through the open hatch, and they were all now soaked from the nearly two inches of it that covered the floor.

"The rudder. It felt more like someone turned the ship too fast. We're lucky it didn't capsize," he answered, scrambling to his feet.

_Hook._ Emma's gut clenched like a fist, fury boiling over her.

"Well what the hell are we waiting for? Let's go," she said, finding her footing. She worked her way along the wall, David and Mary Margaret right behind her. When she reached the door to their bunk room, though, she paused.

"What are you doing?" Mary Margaret called to her, but Emma hardly noticed. Was she really prepared to use it?

Once Henry's face flashed in her mind, the answer came quickly, and she darted into the room. Emma flung the straw mat off her bed, praying that it was still –

There. Her leather holster and gun skidded off the wood as the ship lurched again, falling right into her hand. The familiar grip and comforting weight gave her renewed confidence. She quickly removed the 40 mm from the worn leather and stuffed it into her pocket before making her way back out into the flooded corridor.

"Okay, let's go," she said, but paused when she caught the look in Mary Margaret's eyes. "What is it?" she asked, glancing forward to David, but he was already moving ahead. Her mother remained still. "Mary – Mom, what is it? Are you okay?"

"Emma," she said, her body swaying in tune with the ship as she braced a hand against the wall. "Emma, are you sure?" Her voice was only just louder than the waves, the look on her face far separated from the turmoil surrounding them. The sorrow etched there was almost serene.

Emma's hand immediately went over the bulge in her pocket. Henry's face flashed in her mind again, chasing _his _away.

"You were ready to kill Regina," she said simply, her tone flat. Emma's hand slid back to the wall and she turned, her eyes only for the hatch now. If she saw that look on her mother's face for even a second longer, she knew her resolve would falter. She didn't have the luxury of considering what it might mean for her if she actually did kill Hook, Regina, Gold. Her son was waiting for her. She didn't get to take the moral high-road like her parents had so often done before.

_If they had just done what was necessary, I never would have been separated from them. If they'd just killed Regina in the Enchanted Forest, I wouldn't have grown up an orphan. Unwanted. Unloved._ _Alone. _

Emma caught up to David, and fought her way to the stairs. The ship was still pitching violently. It felt out of control, and a moment of fear gripped her gut when she imagined being trapped below deck as the ship capsized or sunk. She seized the railing and scrambled her way topside even faster, David still fighting to make it past the first few steps.

"Emma, stop! Wait!" he called after her, but his voice was distant, small. The roaring wind immediately swept the hair from her face and filled her ears, the cold spray biting into her skin.

The seascape before her was an image from hell. Sheets of rain obscured the line where the ocean met the sky, so that everything blended into a perpetual blackness. Lightening pulsed through the clouds in vivid streaks, the constant wail of wind louder even than a jet engine as the water churned below, waves pounding the deck in a relentless attack. The deck tipped abruptly beneath her, and sent her scrambling for one of the rigging ropes. Her hands fastened tight around one, only just stopping her from toppling overboard. Her hands ached from the strain. If she'd paused to think about it, she would have realized just how cold she was, how numb her face and fingers had become. She would have realized just how wrong everything was, how it felt as though her limbs were tied to some puppeteer's strings

But she never paused to give it a second thought, as a sudden rushing filled her head, even louder than the storm's howl. Her mind seemed to stop all at once, thoughts fleeing as her eyes fell upon the dark figure now bent over the railing, black coat whipping madly in the wind behind him. A flash of steel glimmered as a lightning bolt veined purple above them.

She didn't pause to consider the fact that he was alone on the deck, or that Regina was nowhere to be seen. She didn't pay attention to the look in his eyes as he turned to face her, how his right hand gripped his side, or the way her name left his lips as the wind whisked his voice away.

The gun was already in her hand, without her even remembering how it had gotten there. The trigger was light and flexible beneath her finger. So easy.

"Emma!"

A wicked crash of thunder drowned out the bang as the gun recoiled in her grip, startling her so badly that it nearly flew from her hand.

_What the…what had she just…?_

When her eyes sailed back to the railing, they only met the horizon, the first vestiges of light casting light over high clouds in the far distance. The storm was easing.

Hook was gone.

**A/N: I mean, he kind of had it coming, right? Yes? No? I hated writing this chapter, and not just because the deep introspective stuff isn't my forte. I'm gonna go re-read **_**Just Because it Burns **_**by AllieSMG2 now. My heart hurts. I'll try to have the next chapter out soon ;) **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Okay, things are about to change, things are about to move forward, and the story is on the cusp of a new section, buuuuut you have to make it through this ****chapter first. I mean, I couldn't just leave out the other stuff that happened while Emma was having a mental episode, right? I had to take it **_**here **_**before the story could move forward, and you'll know what I mean by **_**here **_**when you read it. PS, this thing was a BEAST to edit and write, and I'm soooo glad it's done. Pheww. **

**Oh, and all you freaking people out there making me check my email every second until I'm a wreck from reading all your amazing comments, thanks for making me grin like a madwoman during the most inappropriate times at work. I'm pretty sure my co-workers think I'm insane…but that's a good thing ;)**

**Anyway, done with the rambling. I hope you guys enjoy it!**

Previously, in _DOWN THE MAELSTROM_

"_What the fucking hell do you want out of me?" he yelled, all pretenses of pleasantries gone. All he felt was this rage, a rage he thought he could only feel towards Rumplestiltskin. He wanted her dead. He wanted to kill her, lock her in a room where no one could hear her screams, bury her alive in a tiny coffin…_

"_Everything," she answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I want you to obey me in every way. Whether I want you to fuck my brains out, or drag her mother and father kicking and screaming to those savages you told us about. You'll be grateful, too, since I'm not going to kill any of them and you'll get to keep your black heart. Just do as I say, and perhaps I'll even let Emma see Henry one more time before I remove him from her influence once and for all."_

_ "You've really lost it this time, Highness," he said, his own voice hoarse. "I don't give a damn about that woman or her family. I'm here for Milah. I'm here for her grandson. For Bae. It doesn't matter to me whom I'm aligned with so far as he has the best chance – "_

_ "Prove it," she said, her eyes too wide…too bright. The face now staring back at him was one he'd never seen from her before. Not even when she'd shoved him off that cliff to die back in Storybrooke – _

_ "You've gone mad," he said, the words final and terrifying on his lips._

**Chapter 6 - Beacon**

"Mad? You think I've gone insane?" Regina repeated, her voice catching a higher pitch.

"Perhaps you'd do well to consider that this place will play tricks with your mind," he said, raising his voice. "You seem to think that alienating and sacrificing the boy's family to a bunch of savages is going to make him love you, but I'm going to tell you that you're wrong. I know…" he stopped, "I _knew _Henry's father. I can tell you that it will mean little to him that you are offering a home, protected as he may be. He won't forgive you for ripping them away."

"You don't know a damn thing about Henry," she said, her voice quietly menacing. The air around him suddenly changed temperature. It went from chill to freezing in an instant. It was suddenly even colder than that damn Storybrooke. He backed away, hoping the distance would help, but the air's temperature only dropped further.

"You listen to me, Hook," she spat his name, "If I ever hear you even mention my son again, so help me God I will chain you down and make you watch as I rip her heart out." She pointed to the storage room, a dark glow emanating from her finger. "Don't think for even a second that I won't."

He dug the tip of his hook into his upper thigh as he struggled to keep his face blank, expressionless.

Of course. Everyone always found it so simple to take everything away from him. His choices, his family, the people he cared about. All they ever had to do was threaten a bit of magic, or take advantage of the few good intentions he'd ever had in his entire wretched existence. It was a bloody fucking standard thing to them, the Queen, Cora, Emma, Rumplestiltskin…. make him a slave to their wishes while like an idiot he hoped for some shred of reciprocation, only for them to throw spoilt scraps at him as if he were nothing but a chained dog. He'd never be more than a pawn, an afterthought. Something to be controlled and used.

"You're absolutely right," he finally said, flicking his hook out of his leg and back beside his hip. "Forgive me, Regina. Of course I know nothing about any of this." Of course he wasn't a human being. "I was merely thinking aloud."

"Well don't," she barked, but a moment later, nearly in the blink of an eye, she was smiling again. The air around him suddenly reverted back to the temperature it was before, but a chill remained in his spine.

"You don't need to worry," she said. "You'll be safe with me, so there's no need for any unpleasantness between us. We want the same thing."

"That we do," he automatically replied, the lie easy enough. The smile on her face was now more akin to the one he'd seen after she disentangled herself from him in his cabin. Triumphant. His hand itched for his flask, even as his stomach lurched at the thought of what he'd done with her, even as his body wanted it. His insides felt as though they were decaying. And Emma…she'd been right there…

A sudden change in the ship's movement under his feet mercifully sparked him away from those thoughts, however, before another roll of the sea caused him to raise a brow. As he judged the next few bumps and tilts beneath him, he could help the slight grin that formed. Could he honestly be so lucky?

"Something amusing?" Regina asked, quirking her head and narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing of import," he briskly replied, even as the ship rocked again. "But I should probably get back on deck. It's daybreak, and the ship won't steer itself to land, will it?" Even below deck, the pervasive daylight of Neverland's red sun was now apparent, but he knew wasn't going to last long. The timing really couldn't have been more perfect.

"I suppose not. I can see that you're anxious to be back up there, to be in control," she nodded, her eyes roaming over him once more.

"Well I am the captain," he said turning his gaze to his cabin.

"Perhaps, but…" her hand was suddenly back on his arm, and he fought the urge to twist away.

"Yes, your Majesty?" he asked, eyes unfocused beyond her. This was getting beyond tiresome.

"Make sure you don't forget."

He sighed. "What?"

Her hands were suddenly inside his shirt, sliding over his skin as she brought herself against him, her palms flat on his back. He instinctively pulled away, minding the sleeve that was only just barely covering his left arm, but she brought her front against him, the silk of her shirt soft on his chest. Despite the sheer revulsion he felt under her touch now, his body still responded, even as the sensation sickened him to his core.

The way her lips twitched told him that she'd noticed, too, and a moment later they were at his ear. "Don't forget that the deal was for two nights, _Captain._"

He felt the warm slickness of her tongue as it flicked outward, her mouth closing over the spot where his jaw met his earlobe. He forced himself to be still, resisting the urge to fling her away. He found himself wondering for a moment if he could actually kill her where she stood, the thought vivid and seemingly so easy. All he had to do was ram his hook into her back, her neck, her kidneys. She was vulnerable now…

_Yes, about as vulnerable as a fucking tiger with its claws already buried under my skin. _

"Why so tense?" he heard her chuckle. "Your muscles are like rocks." Her fingers kneaded into his back, nails digging in painfully. He'd finally had enough.

"Let go," he said, smoothly sweeping his arms under hers and disengaging her hands. "I have a ship to run, and by the feel of the ocean we're in for a rough day."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, forehead knitting in confusion. "It feels exactly the same as it does every day."

It amazed him how well the truth could actually work from time to time. He raised a brow, appreciating in that moment how little she actually knew about seafaring. His experience did give him a slight edge, miniscule as it might be. Any foothold he might have against her meant something, though.

"Trust me," he said, "unless you want to be dashed to death on the rocks, it's best I give my ship the attention she deserves." He lowered his voice, leaning towards her, but not too close. "You've never seen a storm the likes of which Neverland can brew."

"Is that so?" She raised the corner of her lip, bright eyes sweeping over him with an unconcealed wantonness. He stepped back, startled by the sudden change in her expression. His fingers automatically went to work buttoning the rest of his shirt.

"Well," she sighed, eyes following his hand's movement, "who am I to come in between a man and his boat? Shall we get to it, then?"

"Indeed," he replied, averting his gaze from her. He'd only just begun to turn away when Regina's hand suddenly flew behind his head and gripped his hair, faster than he could see or prepare for. She pulled him down hard, her strength more than it should have been, and a second later he was fighting an onslaught of lips and teeth. If it had actually been meant as a kiss, then she failed miserably. Her lips were soft enough, but the pointed edges of her teeth elicited more pain and discomfort than pleasure. It wasn't like before when she'd only just teetered on the edge of actually hurting him, encouraging his actions as he reaped the same pained moans from her that she took from him.

This…the way her teeth grinded against him, it was just meant to hurt, and he realized that she was getting off on it. Her tongue lapped at the coppery, bruised flesh on his lower lip as he bit back hard against her, trying to tug himself away, to discourage her. When the thrum of her magic began to hum in the air, its edge sharpening like a threat, he violently pushed back at her, gripping the top of her left shoulder where the curve of her neck began. He shoved his fingers into her skin, hoping to hurt, hoping to pry her away. Both of her arms were still locked around his neck, however, and as she stumbled backwards against the wall he came with her. Her jaw unlatched momentarily when her back slammed against it, so he took the opportunity to wrench himself backwards, leaving her panting, eyes half-rolled back into her head. He brought the back of his hand to his mouth, wiping away a smudge of red.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he demanded, staring at her disheveled, uncharacteristically crazed form. This wasn't normal. This wasn't the fucking Evil Queen. The proud woman would have never let anyone, least of all him see her like this. He was beginning to believe more and more that something outside of her usual murderous nature was influencing her. Perhaps even the same thing about Neverland that had always tugged at his darker tendencies.

"Well, that got out of hand fast, didn't it?" she said, smoothing her blouse in an all-too calm gesture. The nonchalant, borderline cheery tone of her voice made his blood practically boil with rage.

"I'd only meant that as a bit of motivation," she continued "but you certainly took over from there, didn't you?" She shook her head, tugging at her cuffs. In an instant she was suddenly back to being the composed, businesslike, distant woman from before.

Hook decided then and there, as he watched her pull out a tube of pigment and run it across her lips, that he'd never let her touch him, or anyone else ever again.

There was no other choice. Every last one of them would be dead by the next sunrise if it wasn't done. Regardless of whether or not Regina truthfully wanted to keep the others alive, she was just too damn unpredictable to chance it. Too lost in whatever influence Neverland had been able to trap her beneath. The Queen was nothing more than an insane shell of a human being, as twisted with dark magic as Rumplestiltskin before her. She had to be killed. _He had to kill her._

"What can I say?" he said, still massaging his sharply throbbing lip, playing along with whatever twisted reality she now knew. "Your…unique charms are undeniable," he answered, the very words burning his tongue. "But, fun as this has been, I still need to prepare my ship for a storm. You'll forgive me if I pack my manhood away for a while."

"Of course," she nodded, either missing or ignoring his thinly veiled sarcasm. "I'll be in my cabin, then. It's much more comfortable now that I'm the only occupant."

"Actually," he said, raising a finger in point, "as skilled a captain as I am, I will need assistance above deck. So, your Majesty, I suggest you bundle up. It's going to be a long day."

Her eyes narrowed at the command, but a moment later she offered a shrug. "Whatever will get us to the island faster and in one piece, I suppose." Without any argument, she turned and stalked back down the corridor, disappearing into the bunk room.

Hook closed the door of his own cabin and locked it behind him, whatever the hell good it did. He immediately hit the first thing within his fist's reach. The wooden box on his desk crashed to the floor, its hinge shattering so that the top skittered across the boards, the box's contents spilling around his feet. He didn't even bother to look at what his boots crushed as he walked over them, ripping open a trunk and withdrawing his leather vest.

He took a moment as he shrugged it on to look out the porthole along the starboard wall, and was met with the sight of dark and none-too welcoming clouds on the horizon. A long day indeed.

He looped his belt and sword around his waist, while a poison-laced dagger went into the sheath at top of his boot. Hook wasn't taking any damn chances, and he fully intended to use this oddly fortuitous turn of the weather to his advantage. Many a better crew member than Regina had been swept overboard and into the waiting arms of the mermaids in the storms he'd encountered here. This was his chance. It was almost as if Neverland itself was purposefully providing him with the opportunity.

Stealing a brief moment to breathe, to think, he sat on the edge of his bed, holding the cool metal of his hook against his lip. On sudden impulse, his hand fished out a small silver chain from his pocket, the frail metal links fluid like water as they slid across his fingertips. The silver ring it held gleamed dully.

His hook had snagged Emma's necklace in the struggle, and he'd picked it up when he saw it flashing on the floor, right before she'd shoved the damn door on his face. The memory almost brought a ghost of a smile to his lips, but it died before taking hold. There was no going back now.

He would forever be the villain to them. He was the murderous, deformed monster that left Bae to die in the hands of the lost ones. He was the monster who fucked Regina within an inch of her life just because it was momentarily convenient, and he was the same monster who was now going to put forth every effort to kill her. The thought of killing a woman did leave a bitter taste in his mouth, but unfortunately for the Queen he couldn't afford to care. Perhaps she could have been saved, and the others would have probably tried, and perhaps they'd see him hanged for her murder later, but they didn't understand. They couldn't.

The curse of Neverland was that the right choices, the "right thing to do," never came without deadly consequences. There were no happy endings here. If he'd let Bae leave of his own accord, and not handed him over to the lost ones, the shadow would have likely slaughtered him and his entire crew, and he never could have come back for him later. If he hadn't helped Regina thus far, the others would have been totally helpless against her with no one free to help them.

Good and evil didn't exist separately here. They were one and the same, irrevocably connected, woven into a single strand.

He couldn't deny that his own selfish motivations never played a part in his decision making process. He certainly wasn't a noble man, and had never claimed to be one either. He could quite frankly care less about what anyone's perception of him was now. He didn't need their justification, and he wasn't one to beg forgiveness. All he wanted was to help the boy, in what small way he could, to give him a chance at a life with his family. It was the least he could do for Bae's memory, for that damn Swan girl. If it meant killing the Evil Queen, then so be it.

_"That kid just lost his father today. I'm not letting him lose a mother too."_

Emma's words echoed back, and he couldn't help the grim smile that etched its way across his face. "It's a good thing you have me then, love," he said to himself, bunching her necklace up in his palm and sliding it into his pocket once more. "Because I can."

"_That's the spirit, Captain._"

The sudden voice startled him badly, embarrassingly so. Hook jumped from his bed, poised to slash. It'd been _his_, Rumplestiltskin's. But as Hook quickly scanned the area, he realized that no one else stood in his cabin. He was alone. The blasted creature was in his head, his high, teasing voice still echoing about.

"Stay the bloody fucking hell out of my head, Crocodile," he hissed, speaking to the empty space. A faint chuckle echoed back at him. He didn't dare ask the first question that struck him, for fear of inviting him in further, but he was admittedly baffled. Did he know what he was planning? And if so, why the hell would he want Regina gone, too? Where the bloody fuck did he fit into everything?

The handle on his door suddenly rattled, drawing his attention away from the lilting creature's fading laugh.

"Are you coming or not?" Regina's voice carried through the door. _Damn it all to hell._ He didn't have time to stand there and ponder the implications.

The irony was practically laughable. In a world where all one had was time, he managed to find himself with the two magical creatures in existence that could make it seem so fleeting. He quickly shrugged on his leather coat, the familiar, heavy material helping him to feel a bit more like himself. At least she'd have a hard time of getting her bloody hands on him now.

He opened his door to find her waiting outside, swathed in her coat and scarf.

"Well, here I am. Now what exactly am I supposed to do?" she asked, her voice haughty.

"First, we might want to get above deck. Might be hard to see where we're going from down here."

She huffed, but mounted the stairs ahead of him. He allowed himself one final glance towards the storage room before alighting on deck himself.

The black clouds were now less a line on the horizon, and more of a heavy quilt blanketing nearly half the sky. He watched Regina as her wide eyes took in the sight, her hand gripping one of the ropes.

His hand swept out before him. "You see, I told you didn't I? Now, first things first. We need to raise the anchor, and drop these sails."

"Drop the sails? How is the ship supposed to move without them?" she said, her voice full of doubt.

He couldn't help the throaty, resonating laugh which followed. "Honestly Regina, what makes you think we'd be doing any sailing in a storm such as that? You ride the bloody waves, and hope to the gods that you don't capsize. It's as simple as that."

"Please tell me you're joking," she said, her jaw tightening. Her eyes wandered down to the water, and her saw her knuckles whiten as she gripped the rope tighter.

"Welcome to Neverland, love," he said, smiling a smile that was devoid of any warmth or humor. A familiar excitement welled inside him as he watched her composure wane ever so slightly. It was far too easy for him to slip back into the man Neverland had made him, but the pure anticipation and thrill of an oncoming battle was simply too intoxicating. Hook realized that, for the first time in ages, he was actually beginning to feel alive.

The storm collided with the vessel just as the last canvas was dropped, and soon the only thing to be heard above the roar of the sea was the crashing of thunder and sharp cracks of lightening overhead. Regina was struggling to keep her footing, but doing a better job of it than Hook had initially hoped. She fought against the gale-force winds and massive swells, occasionally using some sort of magic to split the walls of water that pounded the ship's deck. It was all Hook could do to maintain upright, bracing himself against the wheel.

It wasn't likely he was going to get another opportunity such as this, and he could feel the frustration bubbling under his skin as she dodged another swell. Occasionally, he could see through the driving rain a look of something close to panic on her face, but she always managed to maintain herself. Her determination was admirable, to the last.

"Regina, secure that line on the port side!" he yelled, watching as the flapping rope whipped through the air. Her head turned towards him, and a burst of magic from her outstretched fingers made the air around the loose rope glimmer through the pitch darkness as it stopped moving.

"Damn," he cursed aloud. He wondered how long her concentration could hold. The storm wasn't easing by any standards, but he knew all too well that Neverland's storms could disappear just as quickly as they materialized. He only had so long before the opportunity was gone.

A particularly large wave suddenly crashed over the bow, sending a massive wall of water over the deck. The rushing water took even _his_ feet out from under him, but not for long. Focused now on avoiding the set of dangerous swells following it, he momentarily pushed thoughts of Regina out of his mind as he worked to steer the rudder out of their path. A deep trough suddenly opened up before him and he turned into it so that he could save the bow from being slammed again, but a wall of water crested over the starboard side, and for a moment it looked as though the main deck had sunken below the sea. A moment of sharp panic gripped him as the ship lunged downward, the weight of the water nearly too much, until he saw where the Queen was. He could just see her below, her dark head nearly invisible as it bobbed above the water. It looked as though she were gripping one of the rigging ropes, the water swirling around her. _This was it._ He turned his panic and fear off like a switch, the last vestiges of what might have been regret leaving his mind.

"About bloody time," he shouted into the wind, before spinning the wheel and turning the rudder hard to port. Despite everything that was wrong with his move, despite the fact that the ship would now be angled in the worst possible way and his brain was screaming at him to stop, he watched the scene unfold with a rush of pure exhilaration. The ship lurched violently as the wave cascaded against it, and Hook only had a moment to brace himself before the entire vessel lurched on her side. The abrupt force was more than he could hold against, and his fingers lost their grip on the wheel. He felt his body practically falling through empty air before the rail collided against his midsection, stopping him from careening into the black, deadly churning waters below.

The ship rolled until the water seemed only a foot or so from his face when a sudden, ear-splitting and heart-stopping crack resounded over the waves. Arms gripping the rail, he turned his head in time to see the main mast snap in half, the massive load of wood practically exploding as a wave struck it full force. The ship was suddenly tossed back to starboard as the weight of the mast fell with the wave, and before he could brace himself against the motion, he found himself being ripped from the railing and thrown back across the deck in the opposite direction. He back collided painfully against the edge of the wheel, but he threw his hook out just in time to snag a peg. The sudden stop in his body's momentum nearly ripped his arm from its socket, and his still-injured left ribs slammed into the wheel, knocking his breath out and ricocheting sparks of white-hot pain all throughout his chest and back. Fighting for footing, he forced himself back into a half-standing position behind the wheel, holding on with the last bit of strength he had left in his right arm. His left one was now nothing but a useless source of nearly excruciating pain. The thought that he'd separated his shoulder crossed his mind, but he had other, far more pressing things to handle. He pulled himself up, surveying the damaged vessel before him. Luckily, it only seemed that the main mast has been lost, but water was quickly rushing into the hole it had created on the deck where it landed. It didn't feel as if the ship was listing one way or another yet, so he assumed for the time being that it was still seaworthy. He didn't want to consider any other alternative. He spun the wheel again one-handed to avoid another monster wave, and hissed as his body was pulled with the motion. A small break in the sets of swells came after, and it was then when he remembered the reason behind his sudden, nearly suicidal maneuver.

Regina.

Eying the waters around him to be sure that he could spend at least a moment away from the wheel, he carefully approached the edge of the ship again. His eyes scanned the water below, searching for any sign of the woman. She was nowhere on the deck, nowhere along the port side. He limped his way to starboard, scanning his eyes along the tumultuous surface, but again there was nothing.

Had he really done it?

A distant light on the horizon glimmered through the swirling black clouds, and the ship's violent rocking began to abate. The storm was finally easing. He descended the short stairs from his wheel deck to the main. Nothing of her remained. He walked to the lower starboard railing, gripping it with his hand as the blackened waters began to lighten, the white foam lessen. She was actually gone.

He'd succeeded.

Hook turned back and away from the sea, a breathless chuckle escaping his chest, but was startled when he saw that he was no longer alone on the deck. The mirth faded as he saw her standing there, like some kind of beacon against the sky. The first thing his eye caught was the way the wind licked at her yellow hair, the long locks spanning out around her head. Even with her eyes set in that enraged, murderous gleam, she was still the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, _and she was safe._

"Emma," he called out to her, the name coming from his lips before he even thought to speak it. It was only after he stepped once towards her that he saw the gleam of metal in her hands. The same gleam he'd seen when he was on the other end of a similar instrument, facing down Belle.

There was a moment before it happened when everything around him seemed to still. The horizon was brightening beyond her, casting a hazy light around her body. Killian slowly let the air from his lungs as he waited, memorizing every last detail of the only sight worthy to be his last. He felt himself relax in that instant before he felt the agonizing explosion of the bullet, the rush of air swirling past his face before his back met the water, and the sea's cold, suffocating embrace as it sucked him away from the sky.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Yes, it's been a while, but apparently I needed a bit of a break from this. I've been working on a 2-shot lately, and it's kind of demanded a lot of my attention. Sorry to keep you guys waiting! This is one of my favorite chapters so far, though, and of course the longest. Hopefully this one will pull you guys out of the dark for a bit. If the chapter title is any clue, you can probably guess that the scenery is about to change as well ;)**

**Also, it's late, and I'm eager to get this posted, so please forgive any typos!**

**As always, you are all amazing and I'm still astonished at the response I've gotten from this. I hope you enjoy reading it!**

Previously, in _DOWN THE MAELSTROM:_

_She didn't pause to consider the fact that he was alone on the deck, or that Regina was nowhere to be seen. She didn't pay attention to the look in his eyes as he turned to face her, how his right hand gripped his side, or the way her name left his lips as the wind whisked his voice away. _

_ The gun was already in her hand, without her even remembering how it had gotten there. The trigger was light and flexible beneath her finger. So easy._

_ "Emma!"_

_ A wicked crash of thunder drowned out the bang as the gun recoiled in her grip, startling her so badly that it nearly flew from her hand. _

_What the…what had she just…?_

_ When her eyes sailed back to the railing, they only met the horizon, the first vestiges of light casting light over high clouds in the far distance. The storm was easing. _

_Hook was gone._

**Chapter 7 - Ashore**

The unnaturally crimson sunlight bled across the deck in jagged lines. It threw sharp shadows across the boards, long and linear as they reached away from her, spilling over the rail. The empty rail. She felt a soft hand close over hers, the one holding her gun, and the metal was carefully pried away from her grasp. A shadow the size of her father stood next to her, his back facing her as she heard him click the next round out of the chamber and remove the magazine.

"Where's Regina?" she heard her mother ask, worry filling her voice. Emma wondered briefly if it was worry for the woman or worry that she still lurked around the ship somewhere.

"I don't see her," David replied, his hand now resting heavily on Emma's shoulder. She knew it was meant to be reassuring, but all it did was add weight to the thousands of tons now pressing down on her chest, closing her airway and crushing her gut. A desperate sort of sound ground itself out of her throat, and she realized that it had been a word.

"No."

"Emma…" she heard Mary Margaret beside her, small hands wrapping around her shoulders. "You did what you had to. No one can blame you – "

"No! I am not Regina, and I'm sure as hell not Hook!" she screamed, the weight suddenly doubling, tripling beyond what was bearable. "I don't kill people. I'm not going to let that son of a bitch die!"

She was ripping herself out of her parents' embrace before they had the sense to stop her, to hold her back. The rail was only feet in front of her, low enough to vault in one swing.

"Emma, don't!" she heard David shout behind her, but she was already too far gone. His cries faded into the wind as she dove overboard, arms stretched before her as she sliced into the water. The cold sent a shock through her body as she submersed herself, and she nearly gasped while still under. It was painful to open her eyes, and the water wasn't exactly clear, but she could see the swirls of a darker color as she swam downward, following them like a trail in the nearly crushing pressure. Swirls of blood, she realized with a sudden sense of desperation, urgency. The penetrating sunlight filtered through the water just enough to where she could follow it, down to where she could have sworn she saw a dark lump receding below her. Her hands grasped the water in front of her, searching, feeling for anything.

It felt as though her lungs were about to explode when her fingertips finally brushed something, and she kicked her legs harder, even as she realized how long it was take her to resurface if she went any further. A moment later, she finally felt a handful of a thick material in her grasp, and she tugged back. The limp weight only seemed to drag her down further, though, so she pulled back harder, trying to use the natural buoyancy of her body to carry them both up. Still, she was sucked down even farther, and it took a moment more of panic before she realized that the damn heavy weight of his stupid leather coat was the reason he wouldn't come back up with her. With her chest feeling as though it were about to explode, she tried to find his front in the dark waters and yanked the coat open, wrapping one arm around his waist while pulling on the leather with her other hand. He was utterly lip in her grasp, forever sinking back into the depths. In one last spurt of desperation, she released him and yanked the collar backwards with both hands. The coat finally slid off his shoulders, its own weight carrying it down his arms the rest of the way. She was ready to tug him back up, but the breath exploded from her mouth in a swirl of bubbles when the damn thing snagged on his hook.

She was nearly about to lose her sight to the widening black spots across her vision when his eyes suddenly shot open in the torrid water. His arms and legs began flailing. He struggled with the heavy material that was now bunched on his hook, his eyes wide and frantic, but Emma had finally run out of endurance. The stale breath that was left in her lungs shot out of her nose and mouth, her lungs automatically heaving in, sucking and filling her throat with the salty, bitter poison. The cold, suffocating sensation of water running down her throat and into her lungs sent her body into a kind of lockdown, and her arms suddenly wouldn't function, her legs stopped kicking, and her body stopped automatically floating upward. She lost sight entirely just as she felt a large hand grip her elbow and pull. Even has her chest burned and her body convulsed, she felt herself rising, _rising. _The water above her became lighter and lighter as the hand disappeared, only to be replaced by an arm around _her_ waist as her body rose towards the glimmering surface. She tried to kick, to push past the physiological urge to open her mouth and suck in more water, biting down on the insides of her lips to keep them closed, but it felt as though sharp fingers were trying to pry her mouth and throat open.

Just as her body forced her lungs to constrict again, her head broke the surface, and it was air that filled her chest now instead of water. She gasped, choking and coughing as she tried to keep her head steady above the surface, involuntarily scrabbling at the floating form next to her.

"Breathe, lass, breathe!" a raspy voice demanded, the arm around her waist moving up to her chest and forcing her onto her back. She could feel him under her in the water, supporting her while she stared at the sky, her body still hacking out coughs. Water flowed from her lips as her body forced it out in wracking spasms, air replacing it in her lungs. It seemed like an eternity before she could speak again.

"Hook?" she said, more of a question asked out of incredulity.

He was still coughing beneath her in the water, and she tried to swim off him, but his arm held her fast. "I can swim, let go," she said, the ferocity of the sound worrisome. His grip loosened, and she immediately put space between them. He laid on his own back, floating in the water as he cleared his lungs. Emma knew that he surely sucked more in than she had, and yet he'd been the one to actually save her. He'd brought her to the surface, given her the moment necessary to recover, even as he bled and spat out half a lake himself.

_Bled…_

"Holy shit, I shot you," she said, her eyes trained on the red blossom of blood that bloomed in the water over his right shoulder.

"What in hell's name were you thinking?" His voice was hoarse, scratchy. His eyes focused on her and simmered with anger.

"I…I don't know," she stammered. He hadn't attacked her. Regina had been nowhere in sight. Why had she shot him? "You…you were there, and after everything– " Emma's eyes suddenly reflected the same anger in his. "You fucking sold us out! Don't you dare just…float there and act like you didn't deserve – "

"I'm not bloody talking about you trying to kill me, I'm talking about you jumping in the water and nearly drowning yourself! What the hell were you thinking?!"

Emma suddenly found herself at an utter loss for words. As she watched him, his face clenched and pale, she almost found herself wanting to say it was because she didn't want him to die. She wanted to say it was because, even after everything he'd done to her, she still couldn't stand the thought that she'd been the one to kill him.

"Let's just get back to the ship, okay?" she said, keeping her voice steady. They'd ended up much farther from the vessel than she would have imagined, and while she could see it easily, it did look like it was floating further away. Her parents were frantically waving at her from the rail, though, so at least she knew they were safe. She gave a wave back to let them know they were okay.

Her arm froze mid-motion, however, when she realized something. _Remembered_ something very important…

"Oh yes, of course. Back to the ship," Hook remarked, his voice sounding more like it normally did. "Right back into Rumplestiltskin's clutches. Brilliant."

"Where's Regina?" she asked, speaking over him. "Why isn't she trying to kill us? Where is she?" Emma noticed the way his eyes closed momentarily, stayed shut longer than required for a simple blink. When he opened them again, she saw the same darkness in them that she'd witnessed before he'd stuffed her into the closet. Something cold, a chill beyond the water around them, clenched itself in her stomach.

"She's gone," he finally said, the words strangely triumphant. Perfectly simple. "You needn't worry about her any longer."

"What do you mean, gone?" she asked, her tone sharp. "How can she just be gone? There's no way you could have gotten rid of her on your own."

"Well it's a damn good thing the sea at least is still on my side," he answered, managing one of those smiles that made her skin crawl.

She realized quite quickly what must have happened. The abrupt way the ship had turned, nearly capsized. How David said it hadn't felt like a wave…

"You did that. Before. You almost killed all of us with that stupid stunt to throw her overboard, didn't you?"

"Perhaps we can save the threatening glares for when I'm not bleeding out into the ocean, love. You can have me all to yourself once we're on board. As for now, I don't relish the thought of what might happen if we remain in the water for much longer. Get swimming."

There wasn't much else she could do other than listen to him. He was right, much as it killed her to admit. She'd heard him mention something about mermaids and other "dangers" before, and the whole point had been to make sure he didn't die. She began making headway to the ship, and he followed in her wake. As his arms awkwardly moved in the water beside her, she noticed for the first time that his hook was gone.

"So you took it off?" she asked between breaths, eyes trained on the leather cup over the end of his arm as it moved over and below the surface.

"Likely resting at the bottom of the sea, now," he answered. She could hear the strain in his voice as he kept up with her. "Why, are you going to miss it? You people always did seem to have this strange fascination with it."

"Only because you have a habit of using it to kill people," she said back. "And no, I'm not going to miss it. One less part of you I have to worry about."

"And what would the other parts happen to be?" he asked. She regretting turning her head to look at him the moment she saw that shit-eating grin on his face, even as he swam.

"Seriously? You're half-dead and still managing to sound like a fourteen-year old boy."

"Darling, the moment I stop trying to distract myself with such pointless and tactless conversation is the moment I'm fully dead."

She stopped swimming for a moment and looked at him again. That same cocky grin was still etched across his face, but as she looked closer she could see the way his jaw muscles jumped under his skin, and the tightness in his eyes. Dammit.

"Come on, it's not that much further," she said, looking into his eyes as she did. "We're going to make it, alright? Suck it up and swim." His grin faded, but he did nod as his eyes flicked back ahead of them. She was about to turn back as well, but before she could begin swimming again his hand flashed out of the water and gripped her upper arm, hard.

"What the he –"

Her breath caught when she saw a flash of absolute terror widen his eyes. She quickly turned her head in the direction he was staring.

She couldn't see anything at first. Their heads blended almost perfectly into the blue color of the sea, the only clue that the blue spheres that bobbed above the water weren't a part of the ocean being the red-yellow eyes that stared back. She counted at least four pair.

"Wha – what the hell are those?" Emma asked, instinctively moving backwards. As she focused, she saw that each one had a blue-green tint to their hair, but the exact shade and color varied throughout them and changed in the sunlight, like swirls of color in motor oil. Their eyes were all the same color, blood-red surrounding a round yellow pupil, but their shapes varied from wide and circular to slim and almond-shaped. Dark blue lips stood out against a paler-blue skin. Their noses looked the same as any human's, but wide-fanning, iridescent _gills _flapped on either side of their necks.

The one on the far right flashed pitch-black teeth, angled and pointed in its jaw as a shark's might have been. An ear-splitting howl suddenly sliced through the air, and soon a chorus of wails and screeches painfully invaded her head, chasing away any and all rational thought. The sound was worse than a steel fork against a porcelain plate, worse than the screaming of a cat she'd heard being ripped apart by a pack of dogs outside her window one night when she was a child. Nails at her ears, she began clawing away at the tender flesh, the noise too much to bare...

And then it stopped. The noise dissipated. Her ears rang.

No, no way in hell. There was no way…

"Mermaids," Hook said, drawing her back in the water and behind him. "They're surrounding the ship." His voice was quiet and low compared to the painful shrills. Almost soothing, even despite the deadly tone.

Emma widened her gaze beyond the four creatures that seemed to rest stationary in the moving water, not twenty feet in front of them. It didn't take long for her to distinguish more bobbing heads, countless pairs of eyes gleaming and flashing. The occasional splash would draw her eye, and once or twice she swore that she actually saw a fin break the surface.

"Oh dammit," she breathed, grabbing a handful of Hook's shirt as she kicked backwards. She ignored his wince as she tugged on him. "What do they want?"

"What do you think?" he replied, his eyes now searching the water beside them, behind them. Emma joined him, scanning the surface for more, but the only ones that were visible surrounded the ship ahead of them.

"I don't know, that's why I asked," she hissed back, watching with growing despair as the ship continued to drift away from them.

"They're highly territorial," he answered, "and vicious. I've seen them rip a man apart before. When they didn't appear right away…I suppose part of me was stupid enough to hope that we'd escaped their notice."

"Well that was a pretty fucking stupid part, then."

"Just shut up, and see if you can reach the knife in the top of my right boot," he commanded looking back at her.

"Why can't you get it?" she asked, unwilling to take her eyes off the creatures for even a moment.

"Maybe because someone blasted a hole in my shoulder," he growled, "and I happen to be missing my other hand."

She beat back the immediate twinge of guilt twisting her gut. "Fine," she grumbled.

She knew that it was wrong for her to feel any kind of guilt, especially after what he did. She may not have wanted him to die, but that didn't mean he wasn't still her enemy. It could only help her if she was armed, especially since he was now hook-less, so she took a breath, and forced herself below the surface again. She grappled her way down his leg, and finally felt her fingers slip over the leather of his boot. She felt around the top for the dagger, and it wasn't long before her hand fell across it. She grasped the hilt and pulled up, the blade sliding free with relative ease. She resurfaced beside him.

"Be careful with it. The blade is laced with poison," he warned, eyes still focused on the creatures.

"The same as when you stabbed Gold?" she asked, her voice hard.

She saw a smaller version of that creepy grin crease his features. "The very same."

Emma glanced at the slim instrument she held, the blade just an inch or so longer than her hand, and serrated along the back end in downward-curved spines. It would have looked almost like a modern day hunting knife had the hilt not been tarnished silver with engraved vines and a single inset ruby at the base.

"That's some dagger," she said, sparing one last glance at the strangely beautiful, decidedly deadly instrument.

""Glad you like it. It's yours," Hook replied, spitting out a mouthful of water as he did.

"What?"

"Make for shore. There's no way we can make it back to the ship now, and land is only a mile or so out. Use it if any of those things come close."

"Shore? Are you kidding? I've never swam a distance longer than a hotel swimming pool," she exclaimed, turning to eye the island behind them. They were much closer to it than they had been the day before, close enough so that trees and a slim stretch of beach were visible, but she knew it was still quite a distance away. Her body was already somewhat fatigued from just trying to stay afloat in the choppy water.

"You're just going to have to deal with it, Swan," he said. "I don't know how much longer they're going to stay there and stare at us."

"But what about the others on the ship? We can't just leave them. It's damaged and they don't know how to sail it!"

She didn't voice her other concern, that there was no way in hell she wanted to end up alone with him on that island. He'd already proved himself a traitor, and she'd planned on keeping him as far from Henry as possible. Besides, how much good could just the two of them do against something even Gold feared? And she couldn't just leave her parents alone with Gold, she couldn't -

"It's not as though we have any choice," his voice cut into her thoughts. "They'll find their way. The storm blew the ship much closer to land. They could make it out on the small boat."

"But Gold - "

"Emma, listen to me!" he suddenly shouted, hand gripping her upper arm and jerking her towards him. "If you ever want to see your son again, we have to go now. Those mermaids could just as well follow us and rip us to pieces, but if we don't try to escape now then we'll be killed for certain. Are you so anxious to throw your life away?"

The argument and questions died in her throat as she looked at him, looked beyond his ferocious blue eyes. He was still bleeding dark blood from his shoulder, and his skin was unnaturally pale beneath the long dark bangs over his forehead and the brush of hair on his chest. An inexplicable sense of urgency suddenly sprung up from within her, as if the shock was finally wearing off. Captain Hook was bleeding out in front of her, a pack of deadly mermaids floated just out of reach, and the closest thing to safety was an island supposedly full of dark magic and dangerous beasts. And her son was there with no one to protect him...

"Let's go," she finally said, casting one last look at the ship - her mother, her father.

Her mom and dad.

_I'll find you again. _

She kicked forward in the water with a sudden thrust of adrenaline-fueled energy, towards the island. Hook released her arm and began swimming beside her, but she noticed immediately that his movements were much less fluid than hers, more sluggish. She glanced behind them to see where the creatures were, but they hadn't moved from their stationary positions around the ship.

Emma continued forward without looking back for nearly ten minutes, and when she finally did let herself glance behind her again, she saw that the _things _weren't anywhere in sight. She just couldn't bring herself to name them, even in her head. The absolute absurdity of the situation was just too fucking much, and she needed what little sanity she had left.

She swam with Hook's dagger in her right hand, careful to keep the poisoned blade away from her body as she dug her arms into the water, the bruised muscles from her relentless assault on that damn door grinding and throbbing in protest. Together they swam in silence for what seemed like hours, even though she knew it couldn't have possibly been that long, but the damned island never seemed to get any closer. In the back of her mind she knew that they were making progress, but the distance they still had travel was disheartening. She was sick to death of the water, sick of the taste of salt on her parched and cracking lips, sick of the pain that twisted her stomach from swallowing too much of it. She was so thirsty, so fucking thirsty. Her chest and throat still burned from when she'd nearly drowned, and she silently cursed herself as she swam onward.

_Why did I have to save him? Why did I jump in after the son of a bitch? _She could have been on the ship now, where she should be, with Mary Margaret and David. She didn't owe him a damn thing, and they probably all would have been the safer had she let him die. She shot him, after all. Why would she have done that if she didn't want him gone in the first place?

It had been a gut reaction to dive in after him. Purely the instinct that came with her job back home. She was used to saving people, even expected to. She was the freaking _Savior_ for Christ-sake. She wanted to laugh at the irony. Everything was so fucking surreal, she almost wanted to dunk her head under again and suck in more sea water so she could wake up from the nightmare.

Glancing back again, she saw that the distance between her and Hook had widened. She'd already stopped twice to wait for him to catch up, and each time it had taken him longer to reach her. He was slowing her down, and yet even as she saw him struggle her chest constricted. She didn't want to deal with him. She didn't want to deal with the fact that she'd so easily shot him, or why she wanted to help him now. Everything inside her fought against it, told her to turn around, keep going, and leave him behind. Just because she shot him, it didn't mean she actually owed him anything. I didn't mean she couldn't still leave him behind and try to find Henry on her own.

Even as the thought began to take hold in her mind, however, she remembered how he'd yelled at her for trying to save him. How he'd had the fucking nerve to be angry with her for saving his life. Emma quite suddenly felt a familiar fury sweep over her.

_That bastard. As if he has any right to leave me now_.

"Come on, this is taking forever!" she yelled back to him, her voice carrying across the water. She waited, watching the waters around them for any more of those _things_ as she did. The ship was now no more than a pinprick on the horizon, very nearly about to round a finger of land that jutted out from the island. She felt her breath hitch when the vessel finally left her vision.

"Why the hell did you stop?" she heard him ask, the water around her stirring from his haphazard strokes. She tore her gaze from the horizon.

"How far is it now, can you tell?" she asked, looking at the beach instead of him. It still seemed so damn distant. When she turned back, his eyes were to the sky.

"We should reach it by mid-afternoon. It's not as far as it seems."

"How do you know?" she asked, "and how far off is mid-afternoon?"

"Haven't you ever learned to tell time?" He had the gall to sound frustrated.

"Yeah, with a fucking watch. What are you using?"

He looked at her now, and his gaze was honestly incredulous. "The sun. What else?"

Oh. Of course. Of course he could use the damn sun to tell her exactly when they'd reach land.

"Get moving," he said, "and don't stop again. We have another hour or so I think, if I understand your world's time measurements correctly."

An hour. Just an hour. It almost even seemed manageable. "Fine. Just try to keep up, okay?"

She was careful to drop her pace so he could this time, and her now screaming muscles thanked her for it. As she watched him though, she found herself seriously considering whether or not he could actually make it. He hadn't said a word to her about slowing down, or how difficult it must have been to swim with a bleeding arm and no left hand, but she could see it in his face. Behind the determination, behind the locked jaw and fierce eyes, he was in pain, and he was exhausted.

But he wasn't giving up. He stayed beside her now, breathing fast, movements disjointed, uneven, but he wasn't giving up.

When her boot finally dug into a soft, pliable yet solid surface, she knew they'd made it. The crashing waves brought back memories of the day trips she'd taken to the beach, and she let her body relax as she rode the waves in to the shore. Dragging herself from the sucking surf, Emma felt the weight of her body practically triple as she was forced to stand on her own two feet. Her legs were unsteady at best, and the uneven sands tripped her once, twice, and a third time before she just let her body lay there, all the energy flooding out of her limbs. The sand stuck to her back and arms and hair, but as the sun beat warmly on her face and her heart struggled to slow itself, she could have been laying on a freaking Sleep Number Five-Thousand.

"What do you think you're doing?"

A shadow suddenly blocked her sunlight as his voice carried down to her. Cold drops of water fell across her face and chest.

"Oh God, go away," she groaned, squinting up at him. "Aren't you supposed to be half-dead or something?"

"We'll both be dead if you don't get your sorry ass up and moving. We can't rest out in the open like this. We need cover."

"Listen, buddy, I'm not sure how common it is for pirates to swim fucking miles a day, but it's not exactly something you do in my world. There's no one around here anyway - "

Her next words caught in her throat when he suddenly bent down and gripped his one good hand around her upper arm and pulled.

"Get off me!" she exclaimed, immediately fighting back. A muffed curse later he let go, drawing his other arm around to press against the spot on his shoulder where she'd shot him.

"Fucking hell, Swan," he ground out, "Just listen to me!"

"Why should I?" she yelled, abruptly hefting herself from the sand, too angry, too damn furious to care that each and every one of her limbs were screaming.

"I'm trying to keep us alive – "

"Well great fucking job _Captain" _she spat. "Meanwhile, my mother and father are trapped on a sinking ship with Rumplestiltskin, we have no supplies, and Regina's probably dead. Bang up job, really. _I've never felt safer in my life_," she hissed, the sheer venom in her words enough to stagger him. She saw his face slacken momentarily, his eyes flick from her face to a point over her shoulder before his entire expression changed. Hook titled his head back ever so slightly, the carefully blank expression morphing into the sinister, bemused one that she _hated_. Her hand ached to slap it off of him.

"Need I remind you that you're here now, and not locked in that room crying your pretty eyes out?" he sneered. "You'd still be screaming in that storage closet if I hadn't killed Regina. Count your blessings and move on, darling. Life can't be a tea party all the time – "

_Crack. _The sound was muffled by the crash of waves behind them and the strange calls of birds beyond in the forest, but it resonated nonetheless. Her hand buzzed dully as his cheek reddened, his head turned from the force of it. A storm overtook his eyes, an ill-concealed fury radiating forth as he slowly turned them back towards her.

"Don't," she said, holding her ground even as her body wanted to flinch away. "Just don't. Not here, not now. I'm exhausted, I hurt, my parents are gone, and all I want to do right now is hold my son again and tell him everything's okay. But I can't. I'm not okay, and none of this is fucking okay. I don't have the time of day to deal with your bullshit on top of everything else. You screwed Regina. Whatever. You…you killed her…" Emma trailed off, imaging the look on Henry's face when she told him that not only his father was gone, but Regina too.

_I have to find him first. Worry about that after you find him._

"She'd gone insane," he said, an unexpected, softer tone lacing his voice. Her eyes flew up from the sand to meet his again, and she physically did flinch when she saw that his gaze was sincere, imploring even.

"You think I didn't realize that?" she yelled back. "You think I haven't figured out how bad this place is fucking with our heads? I just don't have the time to deal with this now. I don't have time to stop and wonder what it all means, or if I'd been better off letting you drown. Let's just find somewhere to wait the night out, and I'll figure out what to do with you later."

"Pardon?" he asked, stepping towards her. "What to do with me?"

Emma switched the poisoned dagger back to her right hand and raised her arm out towards him.

"You heard me. Now drop your sword," she ordered, waving the knife at him. "I doubt it would do you much good anyway with a bullet in your arm."

He stared at her, something like amusement lightening his dark gaze. "As you wish, love," he replied quietly.

She watched as he moved his hand to the belt that held his sword and sheath, his fingers working over the buckle as his eyes squinted against the movement. Still, as she could see the near playfulness in him, as if he were even enjoying himself. She couldn't help but feel the anxiety begin to slip ever so slightly as the familiar glint returned to his eye as he stared at her. With his whiplash-inducing mood swings, she couldn't help but wonder for a moment if this place was driving him insane too.

The belt and sword fell to the sand with a soft thud, and he stepped away from it. "Happy now?"

"Move over there," she said, motioning with the knife towards a black rock that jutted out from the forest behind them. He did as she said, limping slightly as he maneuvered over the uneven ground. He gently lowered himself onto the rock until his was sitting, his eyes now roving the area around them, into the dark jungle beyond.

Emma quickly picked up the belt, the leather still warm from when it had been around his waist. She cinched it high up, above her hips, so the long blade wouldn't drag on the ground behind her. She cut a small hole further up the leather with one of the knife's spines, careful not to slice herself in the process, and forced the metal catch through.

"I think that look suits you," she heard him say. "I do love a woman who knows how to wear her sword." She felt like hitting him again when the blush crept up her cheeks.

"Let's go," she said, choosing to ignore the remark. She remembered what he said before about pointless conversation distracting him, and she glanced again at his shoulder. It was hard to distinguish the blood against his soaked black shirt, but smudges of red showed on the white skin of his neck where the cloth didn't cover. "We need to hurry. I'm not going to have to drag you, am I?"

"I'm touched that you would consider heaving my unconscious body behind you, but no. That won't be necessary." He stood with a huff, only flinching slightly. "I have a general idea of where we are. There's a small opening in the forest about a half mile towards the east. We can trek there and camp for the night."

"Aren't there more covered places we could go, like a cave or something?" she asked, eyeing the stacks and outcrops of rocks that lined the shore in the distance.

"Of course there are," he shrugged, though immediately appearing to regret the movement. "However, caves tend to attract beasts and other things that we'd be better off avoiding. And I don't fancy being cornered in one, either. It's easier to both hide and run in the forest. Plus, there's a freshwater stream near that clearing. I know I'm not the only one thirsty enough to drink piss at the moment."

"You're disgusting," Emma shuddered, making a face at him. She suddenly remembered a survival show she'd watched once on Discovery, a nasty image conjuring in her head.

"Let's get moving then. Just follow me, love. We should be there before dark."

"I'm right behind you," she answered, more a threat than reassurance.

"You best stay there," he said over his shoulder, nudging his way between two wide-leafed, voluminous plants. "And don't touch a damned thing unless you see me touch it first."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So excited with this chapter! I branched out a bit into new POV territory, one that I found I liked quite a lot, and I also had too much fun with Rumple, so he might be popping up a bit more often from now on. I tried to do a bit of parallel type stuff with this one, and set up a couple of things that you can expect to hang over their heads a little later on. The outline I have for this story is getting intense, and I just want to thank you guys for sticking with me this long! Sorry to Col and Grace and the others on Tumblr for that mean little tease yesterday, and this may not be Saturday afternoon, but damnit I got it done before Sunday morning ;) Love all you guys! Hope you enjoy it!**

**(Also, I wanted to put a small note in here to the wonderful, beautiful people who left me those amazing comments on Fall and Rise, Kahoko, Cynmoon, and Peaceheather to name a few, and all you awesome folks who favorited and followed. Not planning any more parts at this point, but we'll see what the future holds!)**

**Chapter 8 – To Each His Own Beast**

She never should have let Emma bring the gun with her. As her daughter slipped away, her chilled, battered arms wrenching out of her grasp, Snow could feel something deep inside her break.

"No!" she cried, even as Emma glided over the rail, into empty air and out of sight. In an instant, David had bolted towards the edge, lifting a foot to launch himself in after her. Despite the unrelenting grip Snow felt around her throat as she struggled to breathe, her senses came back in a swift second.

"David stop! We need a rope," she shouted, frantically scanning the deck around them. The main mast had snapped in half, and while it threw the ship dangerously off-kilter, it gave her ample access to now-useless twine. Snakes of snapped rope littered the deck around the splintered wood, and she quickly grabbed one which looked like it could be long enough to reach the water. "Help me toss it over," she yelled, struggling with the thick, heavy line. The other end still appeared to be secured around the mast. "Do you see her? Anywhere?" she called, tugging at the heavy twine.

David stared at the water a second longer. "No, no I don't," he answered, his voice as frantic as she felt. He pushed himself away from the edge, sliding beside her. Together, they yanked the rope to the edge.

"Where the hell are Gold and Regina?" he exclaimed, muscling the heavy cord over, the sound of it slapping the water below echoing back up.

"I don't know – "

"Right here, dearie," a lilting voice echoed across the deck. "And I wouldn't be doing that, if I were you."

They both spun around, eyes simultaneously falling on the dark figure behind them. It was Rumplestiltskin, of that Snow had no doubt, but he was different. His suit and cane were gone, replaced with the reptilian garb he'd always worn in the enchanted forest. His face and voice still belonged to Gold, but everything else remained the Dark One's, down the slimy chills that came with his presence.

"You…" Snow voice came out like ice, deadly and cold even to her ears. "You fiend. You turned on us, you tried to get Regina to kill us…"

"Yes, yes, and yes," he sang, though his pitchy voice seemed worlds apart from the tight-set fierceness in his eyes. "Guilty as charged, but I think you'll want to hear what I have to say before your beloved husband becomes fish bait."

"What – David?" Snow spun around, just as the flash of confusion in David's eye turned to wide-eyed shock. The rope became tight in his hand, taut as if someone were climbing up the other end. He immediately leaned over the rail, just as something clicked in Snow's head.

"Wait, David get back!" she yelled, grabbing two fistfuls of his jacket and yanking him towards her. Less than a second later, a flash of shimmering blue-green filled her vision. There was a brief moment when thought that the colors were the most beautiful she'd ever seen, such a shade that she'd never laid eyes on in her life, but then her eyes focused on the snapping, jet-black teeth and claws raking towards them. She yanked at David harder, propelled backwards faster. Disturbingly feminine features leered back at them, ravenous eyes wide and red and predatory. It hefted itself almost over the rail, one hand clutching it as the other grabbed at the air where David has been only a second before.

The sharp, listing angle of the deck threw Snow's balance off as they teetered backwards, and just as the creature began to slide the rest of its scaly, oddly elongated body over the wood, she lost her footing, tumbling to the deck with David falling after her. He caught himself before most of his weight could crush her, and just as she imagined that the beast was too close, David shielding her as it swiped those vicious claws towards them, an intense burst of light flew above them.

Snow watched with bated breath, even as her hand fumbled in her pocket for the dagger, eyes wide as an opaque ball of white collided with the creature, slamming it squarely in its chest. It thrashed in mid-air as the force of the blast rocketed it back over the edge, a thunderous splash echoing back up from the water.

"Hurry, the rope!" Snow yelled as David scrambled off of her. She gave him her knife, and two seconds later he'd sawed through it…Emma's lifeline now slipping down into the sea.

The split the Snow had felt snake through her heart when Emma jumped over the edge finally burst under the pressure. It was unbearable, it was too much…not after just having found her, after escaping Regina. She couldn't…she couldn't let her daughter die…not now, not _ever_.

"We have to do something," she shouted, "we need another rope, we need a lifeboat, we have to help her – " But even as she listed the ideas out loud, Snow realized how ridiculous they sounded. As she glanced across the ocean, and saw the countless blue-green heads bobbing the water around the ship, a hard, desperate sort of sound forced its way out of her throat.

_They were everywhere._

"Emma," she heard David's hoarse whisper, an unshed wetness in his eyes gleaming in the sun. "No…no."

"We can't lose her…not again…" Snow said, her voice eerily flat, emotionless even as tears wet her face. She forced her eyes back out over the water, gazing beyond the line of murderous creatures, looking, searching…

Her heart stopped for two agonizing seconds.

"Oh God," she breathed, her eye catching on the one thing that stood out from the sea's color, like a beacon against the fog.

"Gold!" came David's fierce cry her, his shoulders now shaking with rage instead of grief. "You save her, and you save her right now!"

"David, DAVID look!" Snow yelled, a flood of hope surging through her. "Emma…EMMA!" she screamed, praying her voice carried above the wind, waving her arms madly in the air. A speck of gold, much further away than she would have imagined, winked at her in the distance.

"Do you see her? Where is she?" David was suddenly at her side, hands locked around the rail in a death grip. She was afraid that he might try to launch himself in the water again, so she gripped his arm as she pointed to the golden point in the distance.

"There, it's her, it has to be!"

"EMMA!" he boomed, cupping his hands around his mouth, his cry tight with emotion. Snow knew as soon as a white arm rose above the surface and waved that she'd heard them. _That she was okay. Emma was alive._

"It seems the mermaids had no interest in ripping her to pieces. That's surprising," Rumplestiltskin spoke behind them, closer than he had been before. "Though, not entirely unexpected."

"You bastard, do something!" David yelled, launching himself away from the rail, burying his fists in the lapels of Rumplestiltskin's crocodile waistcoat. "Help her!"

Snow was beside him in a second, a steady hand on his arm. "Please," she implored, playing the softer role beside David's hard-edged anger. It was a dynamic they'd used often before. "We'll make a deal with you, any deal you want, just _save her."_

"Perhaps I'd be more willing to negotiate," he said, flipping his head, "if a certain blundering prince removed his hands from me before I cut them off."

"David," Snow said, squeezing his arm, "David, let go."

He seemed to think about it a moment before pushing himself away, Rumplestiltskin still and solid as a statue. "Many thanks, my princess," he bowed, bouncing from menacing to darkly jubilant with head-spinning force. "Now, where was I?"

"Please, please help her," Snow replied, renewed anxiety crushing the brief moment of hope from her chest. "She doesn't stand a chance out there in those waters, we have to – "

"We?" he cut her off, "I'm sorry dear, did you just try to associate yourselves with me?" he laughed, the sound startling, inhuman. "Oh I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, dearie. Now that I have my powers under control, I've no use for any of you. Anything I do from this point forward, will just have to be from the goodness of… my heart." He smiled crooked teeth, sneering lips. Snow felt the rage build within her, the urge to maim his grinning face with something sharp and deadly becoming all too prominent.

"After everything she did for you, you're going to stand there and let those things kill her?" David yelled, balling his fingers into a tight fist. "We're all here for the same thing. To save Henry. _Our _grandson. How could letting his mother die help any of us?"

"You know, one would think," Rumplestiltskin waved a finger in the air, "that after all these years, you'd learn to start listening more carefully to what I say."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Snow asked, struggling to push away her dark thoughts. "What are we supposed to be hearing?"

"I said it a moment ago, dearie. The mermaids do not seemed interested in killing her. In case you haven't noticed, she's still alive. If they'd intended to disembowel her and floss their teeth with her intestines, she wouldn't be floating in the arms of our illustrious captain now, would she?"

Snow glanced back out across the sea, but the distance had grown, and it was impossible to make out anything aside from a dot of color on the horizon.

"Hook's alive?" David asked, his voice sharp as his whipped his head around to scan over the ocean surface.

"Unfortunately, yes," Rumplestiltskin answered, "but fear not. I'm sure once Regina lays eyes on him again that'll change. Quite quickly too..." he thought a moment, "or slowly. I suppose that would depend on her mood – "

"Regina," Snow spoke over him, "where is she? What happened to her?"

"I couldn't say where she is, exactly," he answered, "but I know she is alive. Even despite the Captain's efforts."

Snow automatically flashed back to the scene in the corridor, when Hook had convinced Rumplestiltskin not to toss them overboard, and how he'd had the absolute gall to ask her forgiveness before tossing her into the hatch. The plea in his eyes had appeared genuine, but she knew how well he played the deception card.

However, if he'd actually been the one to get rid of Regina…

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" David asked, facing Rumplestiltskin again. "And why don't the…the mermaids want to hurt Emma? That one tried to rip my face off."

"The fact that they haven't killed her or Hook could only mean one thing," he stepped closer to David, something in his stance suddenly different, less menacing. "Pan must want one or both of them alive, and on that island with him."

"He can control those things like that?" Snow asked, looking out over at the pod of marine creatures still surrounding the boat.

"Indeed. I wasn't exaggerating when I told you that Pan is someone to be feared."

"But you could still do something," David said. "You could blast them away with your magic. You could get Emma out of the water, you could still save her – "

"And why in the world would I want to do that?" Rumplestiltskin countered, his voice lowered to a gravely baritone. "The fact that he's purposefully separated Emma and Hook from the rest of us means he's more interested in them, and therefore I have freer reign. Let them distract him for a bit. I may have my magic under control now, but this world has never quite agreed with my sensibilities. Unless you want me to lose my mind like our dear Regina, I suggest you follow my command."

"I will not let my daughter be bait!" David exclaimed. "How is she supposed to survive on her own? She's strong, but even I would be practically defenseless in this place. I am not leaving her behind!"

"As if you had a choice." Rumplestiltskin had the nerve to chuckle, even as David pulled back his fist to strike at him.

"David, stop!" Snow said, stepping between them. She gripped his face, forcing him to look at her. "I know this is a terrible situation, and I hate it just as much as you do, but you have to remember, _she is our daughter_. I've seen her strength first hand, and I know that she won't let anything get in her way of finding Henry. For now we just have to trust that she'll be okay. There's nothing we can do if Gold doesn't want to help us get her back. And," she paused, taking a breath before continuing, "she does have Hook with her. He's been here before, he can guide her…"

"Hook? Are you trying to make me feel better by reminding me that _he's_ with her?"

"You haven't seen the way he is around her," she said, glancing back at Rumplestiltskin, "I don't think he'll just abandon her."

"Listen to your wife, Charming, she just might be on to something," he said, and Snow could feel the chill race down her spine at his words. She couldn't help but notice his dark tone, the way it sounded like a threat. If Emma actually did mean even the slightest thing to that pirate, and Rumplestiltskin knew it…

She shivered as David lowered his arm, relaxing under her hands. Rumplestiltskin, even if he presently didn't have any intention of killing them, was just as much a deadly force as Regina. The man…creature, whatever he was here, had centuries of torture and death to his name. Snow couldn't believe that he'd suddenly thrown his very nature out the window just to save his grandson.

When David's warm hand fell across her back though, reassuring as if he'd read her thoughts, she felt the tightness in her chest ease. She looked up and saw the determination in his eyes, the confidence. Snow met the sentiment as best she could, offering a tight-lipped smile as she subconsciously smoothed the fabric of his shirt, his heartbeat beneath her fingertips.

Rumplestiltskin or not, they would their family again. _They had to._

Every step, every bloody tree root that his boot caught and sent him stumbling made Hook's teeth clench down a little harder, his mood darken that much more.

He hated this place. He hated how the very terrain seemed to work against them, as if the roots and plants intentionally sprung out of the ground when they neared, grasping thorns ripping at their clothes and vines lacing the jungle floor in ankle-breaking patterns. He hated how every noise, every last rustle of the bushes made his heart pound, how the damn humidity stopped the sweat and seawater from evaporating, made the blood from his shoulder congeal into a mess that made his shirt stick to the hairs on his arm and chest.

And then, of course, it felt as though the gaping hole in his arm was being pried open with hot prongs every time he was forced to catch himself on a tree, or he subconsciously reached for his sword, only to remember that it was no longer there. He regretted letting Emma take it so easily, now. He felt exposed. Vulnerable, even. He didn't even have his damn hook anymore. If anything, if _anyone _attacked them now, they'd both be as good as dead. He'd seen the way she could use a sword, and despite her enthusiasm with the weapon, she certainly wasn't trained or very capable. That would certainly have to change if she planned on surviving any kind of encounter with the lost ones, but that was only if they could even find them in the first place.

And at this point, he wasn't very inclined to help the process along.

Every time he glanced behind him to ensure that some sinkhole hadn't swallowed her whole, she'd glare and extend the knife he'd given her towards his back. As if she thought he'd suddenly launch himself at her. As if he even could.

"Do you know the name of the poison I've coated that blade with?" he asked, keeping his voice low. He wasn't particularly eager to end up a victim of it, but if she didn't stop waving it around like a damn toy then one of them likely would.

"Just shut up, and keep walking."

Alright then. "At the very least, do you know what it does to the human body? How slow and terribly painful it makes one's death?"

"I was there when you stabbed Gold. I'm more than aware," she bit back. His first thought was to respond with a comment about her careless behavior, but her words immediately drew to mind something else entirely.

"Ah yes, you were there, weren't you?" he smirked, the memory of the Crocodile's twisted, tortured face now overshadowing the concern. "Would it be too much for me to ask about the details that followed? The extent of -"

"Of his what, Hook?" she cut him off, "Of his suffering? The agony? Why don't you ask about Neal's suffering while you're at it? How he watched his father dying in front of him. Maybe you should even ask about Henry's, how he learned that Gold was his grandfather one minute and had to watch while you're damned poison killed him the next."

"Perhaps you should learn to stop siding with the wrong people, Swan. Rumplestiltskin deserved every last bit of the pain I delivered, and much more. Do you even know how many people he's killed? How many families the Dark One has torn asunder?"

"No, I don't, but neither do you."

"Oh I have a much better understanding than you, I think," he said, raising his boot to bend the stalk of a spiny plant that grew from the middle of the path. "The stories I've heard about him would make the ends of your pretty hair curl."

"I'm not disputing that," she answered, walking over the plant as he held it down, "I'm just saying, even someone like Gold has people who care about him and want to protect him. Think about that the next time you want to go jabbing your hook in his chest."

The soft patter of rain was just beginning to tap a rhythm over the wide-leaved palms around them, sliding between his neck and collar, dropping on Emma's face like jeweled beads. Loud, squawky birds echoed above them, fluttering for the cover of the canopy. She was waiting for him to start walking, her eyes pointedly glaring at him before shifting forward. He let the plant spring back up, the bush unmolested and unruffled, as if he hadn't just crushed it to the ground.

People that cared and wanted to protect Rumplestiltskin? The creature that had crushed the heart of the woman he'd had a son with and once loved, the man who'd abandoned that very son so that he could remain powerful?

"You people are all fools then," he said, standing before her, "and you'll all likely end up dead by his hand. We've already seen the immense lack of concern he had for you and your family, and I can only imagine the ways in which this place will affect him. I wonder how long we have before he goes insane like Regina and kills all of us."

She stepped up to him, eyes blazing with that defiant light he'd become so accustomed to. It made him question for a moment just why he kept giving her reasons to look like that.

"You know what, he very well might," she said, glaring up at him. "He could turn on us, my parents could even be dead now, but that doesn't change the fact that my son is still out here, waiting for me to find him. The longer we stand around arguing about_ your_ issues, the longer he's in danger."

To his surprise, she stowed the deadly dagger in the belt she'd taken from him, before turning on her heel and walking ahead of him. He was quite suddenly alone, staring after her as she marched down the overgrown trail. _Fucking hell._

He walked swiftly, exerting more energy then he even had to catch up with her. "You don't even know where you're going," he called after her, closing the distance. "I understand the need for dramatic exits, but walking off on your own will get you killed - "

The words died in his throat when a noise suddenly rose above the sound of the rain, the calls of the birds silencing as the jungle died around them. Hook's blood froze hard in his veins, his entire body tensing as a sharp, high-pitched howl cut through the thick air.

"What...what the hell was that?" he heard Emma ask. She turned back to look at him, but he was too busy scanning the area around them, searching for an alcove in the thicket, a bloody tree they could climb, water...

"Hook!"

"Keep your bloody voice down!" he hissed. A thousand different, disjointed memories came flooding back in an intense torrent. Memories he'd just as soon have hacked from his head. He struggled for a single second of clarity, beyond the cusp of fear that now encroached even further on his sanity. One memory in particular, the image of red eyes boring into his as he struggled against the current of an icy river stood out from the others...something about it was important...something vital, something he needed to use...

He was hustling Emma off the trail even before he fully realized what it was.

"What the hell was that? Tell me what's happening, now!" she demanded, even as she let him practically drag her off the trail into the trees, into the thick foliage that he would have rather avoided. But they didn't have the luxury of caution now.

The stream. They had to make it to the water. The damn beast couldn't cross water.

"Please?" she asked, fear evident in her own voice now. He spared her a glance and saw the wide set of her eyes, heard the way her breath wheezed ever so slightly. He took note of her bare arms, skin eerily white under the bruises, and tugged her harder against him, using his body to block her from most of the clawing, treacherous foliage.

"Laelaps," he finally answered, using his left arm to shove back the brush, ignoring the way spines and thorns ripped at sleeve, his arm, catching on his hook's brace. Seven hells did he want his leather overcoat back.

"That doesn't mean anything to me," she said back, a hint of anger back in her voice. It sounded better than the fear.

"Pan's dog," he growled, giving wide berth to a patch of dainty, iridescently purple flowers. He felt Emma gasp against him when they suddenly grew to twice their height, the blooms following their progress as they continued through the dense thicket.

"His...his dog?" she said, eyes still behind her on the strange plants.

"Eyes forward, love," he said, jerking her slightly for emphasis. You wouldn't want to get tripped up in here."

"Why are we running away from a dog? Can't we just kill it?" she asked, her hand hands gripping his arm as she struggled for footing as when they reached a slope. He couldn't help but wince at the sudden pressure, teeth clenched and spots threatening his vision as felt blood begin to leak from the wound again, but he kept it braced around her.

"It's not an ordinary dog, otherwise I would have killed the bloody thing myself ages ago."

"So what, like a wolf?"

"We should be so lucky."

She suddenly jerked to a stop, her eyes seeking his. "Why are you so terrified?"

They had reached the bottom of the slope, and a small clearing in the trees stretched before them, a distant stream gleaming grey on the other side as the rain continued to pour. As he turned to face her, his heart skipped at the thought of bloody clueless she was, how desperate she was to understand.

"It doesn't stop until it catches its prey," he answered. "It never stops. Once it's on the scent, the only thing you can do is put a bed of running water between you and it, but that only works until it can find a way around."

"So you've faced it before?" she asked.

He let his eyes take her in, trying to calm the panic welling up inside him. Wet hair clung to her face, the color turned from golden to a dusky yellow. Her eyes fluttered as the rain caught in the delicate lashes, streaks of brown and red swirling down her skin.

"Aye," he answered, setting his gaze over her head, the mix of pity and understanding on her face suddenly cutting at something inside him. "It's likely after me, but since you wouldn't last a bloody minute here on your own, we're both in deep shit." He pushed her along again, eyeing the water in the distance. "Now, make for that stream," he pointed, turning his head back to watch the brush behind them.

They made some progress, but it wasn't long before he had to stop running, the world suddenly swimming before him as the spots in his eyes grew larger, more encompassing. It took a moment before he realized that the darkness had overtaken him completely, at least for a moment. He was quite suddenly aware of a very feminine body pressed against his, and as the black slowly cleared again, he could feel her arms around him, the strength in her grasp surprising. He was able to catch himself just before he fell forward on her.

"Hook! Snap out of it already," she shouted, her voice near hysterical. He couldn't help the grin that turned half of his mouth up, even despite the circumstances.

"Well that was fun," he said. "I suppose this time you'll have another excuse for grabbing me?"

"You idiot, it's getting closer!" she yelled, and he immediately tried to struggle past the haze that suffocated his brain. The grin vanished and his world was suddenly a chorus of howls, vicious barking, crashing underbrush.

"Fucking hell, go!" he shouted, a renewed strength flowing through his legs and making it just a tad easier to breathe. He didn't pause one second to consider how he could go from nearly blacking out to sprinting like a madman. It might have even struck him as strange had they not been trying to outrun the bloody incarnation of death itself.

The small field was awash in bands of red light as the sun tried to beam through the rainclouds, catching the muddy puddles and tossing glittering coins into the air around them. The mud sucked at their feet as they ran, the puddles slapping as they traversed the tricky terrain. Hook listened, listened so carefully to the sounds behind them, trying to discern the exact moment that the beast burst from the brush. He knew that they needed to be at the stream before it did. Once its claws struck open ground, they didn't have a chance in hell.

Emma ran a few paces ahead of him, his sword and scabbard bouncing awkwardly on her hip. He realized as she loped along unevenly that the weight was throwing her off balance, slowing her down, and he pushed himself to come up alongside her. In a swift, surprisingly non-agonizing move, he groped for the handle of his cutlass, and yanked it free from the sheath. He saw the startled expression on her face, but she didn't stop or question his actions. _At least now he had a blasted blade._

Emma sprinted ahead of him, and he spared a glance backwards as they crossed the middle of the field. Another howl erupted into the air, too fucking close for his liking, and he pushed himself harder, driving himself to a point of such exhaustion that if he stopped for even a moment, there would be no getting back up. His heart pounded too fast in his chest, the beat irregular, and he knew she couldn't have been much better off.

"Nearly there!" he encouraged, hoping that speaking the worlds aloud would actually make them true. The stream still gleamed distantly, too distantly.

When the beast still hadn't emerged from the thick jungle a moment later though, he began to think that they just might make it. A spark of hope flickered, but just as it began to grow into a flame Emma's body suddenly flailed out into the air, her boot catching in a muddy hole and propelling her face-first into the ground before him. She collapsed in a tangled heap.

"Son of a bitch!" she groaned, trying to brace her arms under her and lift herself back up. He came to a quick halt beside her, shoving the tip of his sword into the ground before carefully gripping her arm.

"Come on love, can't stop now," he said, his voice softer than he'd intended. She looked like a damned broken, dirty doll that he's seen mingled with a heap of garbage once behind a tavern.

"Don't you dare look at me like that," she said, struggling to her feet. "I'm fine, just go!"

But their time had expired.

Her eyes widened with utter horror at something behind them, and he didn't have to turn back to know what it was.

Without a world, without a thought, he pushed her, his hand tightly wrapped around her arm as he forced her to look forward again, to _run. _She grabbed the hilt of the sword he'd shoved into the ground before taking off with him. The stream was still at least twenty feet ahead of them, and he could now hear the snarls and growls clear as daylight behind them, even the sound of its paws slapping across their footprints.

He felt like shouting in true joy when they finally jumped into the icy, breath-stealing water, the snap of deadly jaws and deafening barks mere feet from his ear as the freezing water rose up around him, his hand still gripping Emma's arm.

Looking back to the bank, taking in the sight of the black, bear-sized, red-eyed dog growling and snarling and raking its claws frantically against the pebbled ground, he pushed off from the stream's bottom and into deeper water. It was then that he let himself smile, the sheer exhilaration and relief colliding inside him until he felt fucking _giddy._

"It's not chasing us," Emma sputtered beside him, the swirling, clear water washing the mud from her face. She held the sword above the stream as he pulled her through the water with him.

"Come now, don't tell me you doubted me?" he laughed, the sound strange even to his ears. As she looked back, he could have sworn he saw a glimmer of laughter in her own eyes as well, before she rolled them to the back of her head and began swimming for the other bank.

"I hate the water," he heard her grumble as he waded to the opposite bank beside her, the beast behind them still mourning its lost prey with another high-pitched, headache-inducing howl.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So sorry it's taking this long, and this chapter was initially going to be much longer and have some action in it, but I'm struggling a bit with the second half of it, so I decided to go ahead and post the first part as a separate chapter. You guys have been so amazing. I just reached 100 follows, and I seriously can't tell all of you how much that means to me, so I wanted to get **_**something **_**out at least. I never thought that this little story would turn into the beast it has, or that I would have so much fun writing it, so I really hope that you enjoy it! (even though, like I said, the real action comes in the next chapter). **

**Chapter 9**

Of course Peter Pan had a giant fucking mutated dog. It made perfect sense. Of course the thing was three times the size of an average wolfhound, serrated fangs protruding from its upper jaw like a damn saber-toothed tiger, sleek black fur rippling over impossible muscles as it dug furiously at the ground. The sight of its red-rimmed eyes wasn't something Emma would forget anytime soon, the way they focused so totally on them, even as it walked and moved. She still wanted to run, to put as much distance between them and it as possible, but Hook had refused to budge from his spot on the bank beside her. While she sat with the sword still gripped in her fist under the low-hanging bushes and vines, he was totally stretched out in the dirt, his left arm across his eyes. He'd collapsed in the same spot where he'd crawled out of the water.

"We need to keep moving," she said, poking and prodding him, shoving at his side. When he finally opened one lid and regarded her with that half-cocked eyebrow of his, she exhaled.

"We're as safe as we could possibly be," he sighed. "As long as that thing is in sight, and across the water from us, we can have a bit of a rest."

She sucked the air right back in. "Rest? Are you kidding me right now?"

"Exactly what do you hope to accomplish in the dark? The sun is setting," he said, the words ringing with a finality that made her want to throttle him. She opened her mouth to argue, to make him realize how damn important it was that they got to Henry before something, or some _dog _got to them, but she clacked her teeth down when he slug his left arm back over his eyes. She could see the rips and tears in his sleeve, the angry red cuts that glistened wetly in the fading light.

She thought back to the field, that moment when she noticed that he had stopped running beside her, and how he'd just barely come back when that warmth had so unexpectedly coursed through her as she held him, willing him to snap the hell out of it. The sensation had reminded her of when she'd covered Gold's shop with that protection spell in Storybrooke, the buzzing just under her skin and the way her heart seemed to stop in her chest as the light flew out of her. The toll it instantly took on her own stamina had been terrifying, and her legs had given out on her like she was some fucking weak girl, but the sheer lifelessness she'd felt in him had terrified her even more.

Almost as much as the fact that she'd obviously used magic again, without even knowing how the hell she'd done it. She just couldn't wrap her head around the idea that her body had actually conjured some kind of..._something_ to help him. She didn't even know exactly what it had done to him, just that he was still mostly conscience and breathing beside her.

But she couldn't affort to think about it anymore. She couldn't take any more soul-searching magic theorem bullshit, not today. Not until Henry was safe in her arms and this hell-hole was far, far behind them.

Emma took a moment to examine her own injuries as well, distracting herself. The jungle seemed just as much alive as the beast across from them, and they'd both emerged worse for wear. Fresh scrapes and scratches overlapped with the old ones on her arms, and a thorn or...well, something had snagged the skin across her chest and left a thin, deceptively deep laceration across it. It hurt like hell, and after a moment of wiping at the blood beneath it, she suddenly felt the pain of her other injuries flare up as if they' been numb before now. Her ankle throbbed from her fall, and her temple stung sharply from where she'd banged her head on a rock when they'd tossed themselves into the river. Every last muscle in her body ached, from the charley-horse in her leg to the raw burning in her throat from inhaling half the ocean just this morning.

"I feel like shit," she mumbled, closing her eyes briefly against the red sunlight that reflected too brightly off the water. She took a breath before turning towards him. "How bad off are you?"

"Where would you like me to begin?" he chuckled weakly. "Shall I start with how I'm in the worst possible hell imaginable, a hound from its darkest depths panting for my blood, Rumplestiltskin on my ship, you pestering me with foolish questions…"

"That's not – that's not what I meant," she sighed, too tired to yell at him like she wanted. "I just need to know if you're going to drop dead on me anytime soon."

"Isn't that what you wanted all along? I don't see why it should matter now."

"God damn it, Hook," she grumbled, scooting closer to him. She took a handful of his sleeve and tugged at his arm, her hand catching on some kind of cord or strap beneath the fabric. The odd shape confused her for a moment, and she forgot for half a second who it was she was actually touching.

She couldn't help but gasp when his hand suddenly gripped her wrist and his body lurched up off the ground, his eyes now only inches from hers. She could immediately see what the abrupt movement had cost him, the obvious pain, and yet there was something beyond that – something wrong. It was the brutality and fury that she'd come to hate about him, from the way his eyes threatened violence to the too-tight grip on her sore arm. A darkness that always threatened to suck everything down with it.

"Lively enough for you, Swan?" he ground out. "Satisfied now that your guide won't drop dead on you?"

For the life of her she couldn't do much more than stare back, bewildered and exhausted. Part of her wanted to yank away and hit him as the heat in his eyes simmered, close to boiling over, but mostly she wanted to scream. They were never going to accomplish anything like this.

"I was only asking if you needed help," she finally said, wrapping her fingers around his hand, trying to pry it off. "And you can let me go anytime."

He held the stare a moment longer, before finally releasing her. She rubbed the red skin as his eyes flicked to it, the dangerous shine fading to a glimmer. "I don't need any help."

"No, it's not like you almost fainted back there or anything," she mocked. "At least let me see if the bleeding has stopped."

He leaned over until he was practically nose to nose with her, the strong stench of sea water and blood rolling off him and mingling with the sticky air. Emma pulled back just so she could breathe.

"Why in the seven hells didn't you let me drown? Why even put yourself in this position? Why would you risk your life and the chance of ever seeing your son again just to make sure an old man who betrayed you didn't die from a wound _you _inflicted?"

"I don't know," she answered quickly, "why did you kill Regina and save us?" She still wasn't going think about, definitely not now, and she didn't even really want him to answer her. She just wanted him to drop it, to let her forget it.

"Perhaps I didn't fancy the notion of working for an insane witch. My motivations are quite simple really, but you...you're a different story. You felt guilty, didn't you? I assume you've never killed anyone before. Didn't have the stomach for it, I imagine?" he tried to laughed, but it came out as a hollow kind of sound. It made her want to shake him. "Don't worry, love. Once you kill your first it gets easier."

"I felt guilty because it was wrong," she said, his words bothering her more than they should have. "I didn't need to take it that far, not yet at least," she said, focusing on the ground. She didn't want to see that frigid emptiness in his eyes anymore. "But don't think for a second I wouldn't kill if it meant protecting my kid."

"Oh no. I wouldn't dare, Swan. I saw that murderous rage before you blasted that pistol at me. When it comes down to it, you might even be useful against the lost ones."

She saw him move from the corner of her eye, lumbering to his feet like some kind of half-drunk gazelle – all long limbs and no stability. The beast across from them let out a fresh snarl at his movement, and as Emma turned her head to watch it, she could see the saliva dripping from its jaws. They looked big enough to easily snap down over a man's head, powerful enough to pop it like a fucking grape.

With things like that at the lost boys' disposal, part of her hoped that Hook was right.

"This stream is a part of a river system that nearly bisects the island," he said, his voice now miles away from the quiet menace it had been only a moment ago. It even sounded conversational. Emma forced her eyes away from the beast to look up at him. She saw how his fingers shook as he unbuckled his vest.

"How long do we have until it's on us again?"

He shrugged his left arm. "The closest land crossing is at least three leagues away. We should be fine for at least the night before it finds its way around."

"Oh. I guess that's good."

Silence filled the space between them for a moment as she struggled to keep up the pleasant facade, searching for more safe conversation. "Why can't it cross running water?" she asked next, brushing her hands off on her legs before deciding to reach down into the stream's cool flow. She tried to dig the mud and blood from under her nails.

"I've no clue," he answered, "I just know that it can't. Probably something to do with the 'price of magic,' or whatever it is you people are always going on about."

"It has magic?" she asked, watching him as he slid the leather off his shoulders. His breath drew in sharply as he did, almost a hiss, and for a moment she thought about standing up to help him. Instead she focused back on scrubbing her hands clean. Her fingers were still etched in red and brown, and the gory colors just wouldn't leave her skin.

"Its hide is impenetrable, against both sword and hook," he answered. "I was forced to learn that the hard way, but fortunately you don't have to. Just know that it can't be killed, at least by our hands."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Simply that we don't stand a chance against it, love," he replied, dropping his vest to the ground in a heavy heap. The black fabric of his shirt was still damp, less billowy than usual as it clung to his skin. She turned back to the water when he began pulling the tucked ends out.

"Comforting. Thanks," she mumbled, ripping a piece of moss off the ground beside her. She soaked it in the water and rubbed the soft greens up her arms, trying to dislodge more of the inset grime. She only succeeded in smearing black streaks up her skin though, and in a moment of sheer frustration she chucked the sopping plant at the beast on the opposite shore. She missed by a mile.

"At any rate, we could use some food, cover." He was now unbuttoning the few silver buds left at the bottom of his shirt. "The water is clean enough to drink here without boiling, so we won't be forced to start a fire."

Emma had spent enough time in the Enchanted Forest to know that a fire and smoke would have given their location away to anyone who cared, and with fucking Peter Pan out there with God knows whatever else, she wasn't going to argue. As much as the warmth and protection might have appealed to her, it would have just been stupid at this point.

"Now, if you're done scrubbing yourself raw," his voice broke into her thoughts and she froze, "would you mind clearing a space beyond this brush where we can bed down for the evening? I don't believe there's anything overtly poisonous this far out of the forest, but watch out for bright colors."

"Ha, who died and made you king?" she scoffed, pulling her hands out of the stream. "Exactly what are you going to do?"

"Get all this blasted blood off," he said, trying unsuccessfully to shake the fabric over his right shoulder. "And it's Captain, love." He paused after a moment when she didn't move, and quirked a brow. "This is the part where you leave so the scary pirate doesn't offend your delicate sensibilities."

She narrowed her eyes. "Or it's the part where the stupid man asks for help."

His demeanor changed in an instant, but Emma couldn't say that she wasn't expecting it. The abrupt tilt of his lips was suddenly all sex, and the gleam in his eye overtly disconcerting. He was trying to scare her off now. She seriously doubted that modesty was even a word in his vocabulary, and the idea that he cared about her "sensibilities" was laughable. He was probably feeling insecure, weak. Despite the fact that part of her brain still screamed he deserved it, it was her fault, and it was almost painful for her to watch him try to struggle with it alone.

"Enjoying the show, I take it," he said, eyes pointedly roving over her. She let hers do the exact same thing, though she wasn't thinking along the lines he seemed to be following. Emma took note of how his entire right side was crusted with dried brown rivers, the breeze blowing his shirt back just enough to reveal the dark lines tracing the trim contours of his ribs, his hip. She also noticed the black bruising over his left side, green tinges beneath and around the fresh bruise revealing his older injuries from the car accident. He was a fucking mess through and through.

"I've never been one for horror movies," she answered, eyes tracing Regina's fingernail marks last. She blinked away when their path brought her to the line of hair on his stomach.

"You're calling me a horror? Really?"

"Have you seen yourself lately?" she answered back. She knew that it was pointless to argue with him, that the stupid back and forth was only meant to distract her, put her off. Without another word, she stood up and walked over to him, meeting the question in his eyes with what she hoped was a stern glare.

"Just be still, okay?"

Sliding her fingers under his collar, she felt rather than saw his intake of breath, the tension under his skin.

"Taking command, I see. Admirable quality in a woman."

"Shut up," she sighed, though there wasn't any real demand behind it. She focused on peeling the fabric back, un-sticking it from the round, singed hole the marred his white skin right in the joint where his arm met his chest. It didn't appear to be really even bleeding anymore, and it looked clean around the edges, as if the skin had already begun to heal. It still wasn't pretty though, and her stomach flipped when she pulled the fabric even further away and saw a larger, more ragged exit wound towards his back, near the top of his shoulder. Despite how it all looked, though, a part of her was relieved. This clearly wasn't what a fresh, open, unattended wound looked like. Whatever her magic had done in the field, this was the result. She knew it likely still hurt like hell, but she couldn't deny that his pallor was considerably better than it had been before, and his breathing more even.

The dark line of his jaw was suddenly very close to her face as he turned his head to look as well. She didn't miss the way a soft "Hm," buzzed in his throat, and she inexplicably felt her own shoulders tense. Her relief was very short-lived.

"When exactly were you going to tell me that you had so much in common with Regina and Rumplestiltskin?" he practically whispered, though his tone was far from soft. She withdrew her hands, raising her gaze from his shoulder his face.

"I – "

"You can wield magic. That's why I'm not dead."

Shit. It wasn't anything new to her parents, Gold, or even Regina, but apparently it was news to him. Judging by the look on his face, she assumed it wasn't good news, either.

Emma was immediately struck by how much she hated the way he stared back at her, as if she were some fresh oddity that repulsed him, _appalled him._ Too many people in her past, people she'd vowed to forget long ago had looked at her this way. Like she was defined by the circumstances she couldn't control. A dirty foster kid, a homeless teenager, and now this... Emma realized how quickly she was blinking, how her hand had grasped a handful of her shirt while her nails dug into her hip. She resisted the sudden, overpowering urge to walk away, to run away.

"Don't you compare me to them," she said, her voice breathier than she'd intended, but still she managed to choke out the anger with the words. She made her voice sound like razor wire. "You're more like them than I could ever be."

"Using magic to manipulate people is a talent I'm quite incapable of, I assure you," he replied, voice quiet steel. "How long before you were going to use it against me? You didn't even have the grace to heal my wound completely. Just enough to keep me going, just enough for you to achieve your objective. To keep me weak but useable."

"I haven't used it against you even once! And I don't know what happened when you almost passed out back there, I can't – "

She stopped, unable to voice it aloud. She didn't want to acknowledge the fact that she couldn't really control it, that it was unreliable at best, and probably dangerous. She would have healed everything if she could, if she just knew what the hell she was doing. God this was getting to be too much –

"That's why you jumped after me. You realized too late that you could use me. Just like Regina, just like Cora."

"Would you stop talking?" she suddenly shouted, part of her hating how he looked, part of her hating that she even cared. "I don't have to explain myself to you, but I'm sure as hell not going to stand here while you try to tell me why I did something. You don't know me," she ground out, jabbing a finger into his chest. The way he flinched under her touch made something in her gut hurt that shouldn't have. He didn't move though, not to get away or remove her hand. She curled her finger back into her fist, and realized all too easily that the repulsion she'd seen in his gaze hadn't exactly been that. It was almost like he was afraid of her.

"I can't control it," she said softly, her treacherous mouth letting the words spill all too easily out, and yet she didn't stop there. "All I know is that Cora tried to take my heart once, but she couldn't. I tried to cast a spell too but it didn't work very well, and that night on the ship…" a chill raced down her spine as the images from when she'd been trapped in Regina's spell made his nearness suddenly unbearable. As she stepped away from him, she could see the subtle change in his stance, the way his arm tensed and he made a fist. "I broke out of her spell when you were with her, but I couldn't do it again after you threw me in that room. I couldn't even do it knowing that she was going to take Henry away from me. I didn't say anything about my magic to you because it doesn't matter. It's useless."

Her voice wasn't as steady as it should have been, and her temples ached. When he hadn't said anything after a solid minute, his eyes alternately flicking to the ground, then out across the stream, she gave him her back. Apparently the conversation, argument, bullshit – whatever it had been, was over. She stabbed his sword into the mud before trudging further up the bank, into the brush. She paused a moment, casting one last look over her shoulder.

In this world, reliant on a man whom she nearly killed and who now seemed intent on despising her for something that she couldn't even control, Emma thought briefly that she was just as useless as her magic. She didn't know where to go, she didn't know how to find Henry, she didn't know what she could eat or touch or use…

"Laelaps is gone." Hook's voice interrupted her thoughts, though it was barely audible over the sound of the rushing water. Emma noticed for the first time how quiet everything seemed, the absence of snarls and growling just as telling as the sight of the open, empty ground across from them.

"So, it's gone to find a way around?" she said, lilting the end like a question.

"Aye. We'll need to keep watch tonight," he said, keeping his eyes trained down the bending waterbed.

When he started tugging at his belt, making it more of a flourish than natural gesture as he whipped it off, Emma realized fairly quickly that he was trying to make her leave. Only too willing to oblige, she trekked the rest of the way up the bank, past the highest waterline, until a nearly solid wall of dull green shrubs blocked her view of the water, of him.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hehe, I told you the next one would be up sooner. First and foremost, however, I will say that it gets a bit rough. Nothing too trigger-worthy, but just be aware that if you're squeamish when it comes to certain "rough scenes," you may want to skim past parts of it. There's a reason it took FOREVER to write. Otherwise, this starts where we begin to learn more of the "whys" behind everything. Our favorite idiots and their companions will have goals and plans from here on out, and an end is vaguely in sight. The fight is about to begin.**

**Chapter 10**

Emma spent the better part of what she judged to be an hour clearing small plants and forest litter from a fairly open spot just beyond the bushes that lined the stream. Sweat leaked down her cheeks, neck, and back as the humidity bore down on her like a hot iron, smothering and claustrophobic. The rain had long since stopped, but the air was so thick with soupy moisture that it didn't make much of a difference. Her clothes were still damp, now even more so with the sweat dripping off her as she tugged up roots with her aching arms, kicked surprisingly sturdy green stalks over with her blistered, swollen feet.

How long did it fucking take for a grown man to rinse off? That bastard shouldn't have been gone for longer than ten minutes, and yet even as the time seemed to tick by she couldn't bring herself to cross through the wall of foliage and look for him. She could hear the splashing, the movement of his body in the water, so she knew he wasn't dead at least, but it was getting to the point where she was practically compelled to cross that invisible line, out of her refuge. She really, really didn't want to deal with him, but god damn it she wanted in that water so badly. Her throat was parched, dry as fucking sandpaper, and her own injuries needed cleaning. The one across her chest was really starting to bother her, alternately stinging and burning, and the sweat on her face kept running old blood and dirt into her eyes.

Once there was a decent circumference of bare dirt around her, large enough for two to lay down without branches clawing out over them, she was left with nothing to do but venture back out, and she took a breath.

"Hook!" she called, stepping tentatively through the brush. She stumbled out, the incline steeper and sharper than she'd remembered it. After her feet worked clumsily to regain some semblance of balance, she found herself falling back onto her butt, rocks and loose dirt tumbling down after her.

"Son of a bitch," she sighed, the dull throb in her tailbone causing her to grit her teeth more in annoyance than anything else.

Black legs came to stand in front of her, but she couldn't will herself to look up.

"Graceful," Hook said, a hint of his familiar teasing lilt back. She propped her elbows on the tops of her knees.

"Just go away so I can rinse off," she sighed. "I cleared a spot over there," and she vaguely pointed behind her. "Now go find us some food or something."

"Already did," he said, and she looked up for the first time. He was completely dressed, dirt and blood cleared away, his hair damp and parted on one side. She noticed next the long, sharpened stick he held, and three neatly impaled fish that still flapped weakly around the spike. So that was what had taken him so long.

"I thought we weren't going to light a fire?" she said, confusion creasing her brow. She had never been fond of seafood, much less –

"These fish don't need to be cooked. They're green-fins. Their flesh has a natural venom that repels parasites. It might make you a bit queasy, but the meat is worth it," he said, eying his catch and nodding.

"But I hate sushi."

He glared at her. "And I have no idea what that is, so I find it difficult to care." He walked off behind her, towards where she had pointed. "You have a ten minutes, Swan. Any longer and I'm coming out after you."

"You come anywhere near me and I'll rip your eyes out," she called back, but even as she heard him walk up the bank, she tugged her boots and socks off so that the puffy, wrinkled skin of her feet sunk into the cool mud. She yanked her tank off next, utterly unbothered by the fact that all he had to do was turn around to see her. The water looked too cool, too fresh, too sinfully perfect for her to care about much else.

The second she shimmied out of her leggings, Emma stepped into the chill flow and sucked in a harsh breath as her skin prickled and the pain drained out of her leg muscles. The deepest the narrow stream went brought the water to just under her chest, so she bent her legs until it touched her chin, dipping back until it soaked through to her scalp, the weight of her wet hair helping to hold her head back. It was so different from before, when she'd been in the ocean and swimming for her life. There was no stress, no fucking salt, and she barely even had to resist the flow of the current. The temperature was perfect too, cold but not too-cold, refreshing and clear. She faced upstream, cupping her hands in front of her and letting the water flow over her swollen tongue and down her scratched, raw throat, gulping it and even enjoying the way it tasted. She had never had water so fresh in her entire life, never felt so satisfied as it filled her stomach and coursed soothing rivers down the raw inner flesh and washed the salt from her mouth.

"My word, lass. That's a sight for a weary man's eyes indeed."

"Shit," she cursed under her breath, immediately diving down until the water came back to her chin. "What the hell are you doing?" It took a moment of searching to realize that he wasn't talking to her from the bank, but from _in_ the water as he waded towards her. Why hadn't she heard him? He looked just as he did a minute ago, his dry clothes now getting soaked again, and it just didn't make any sense in her head. Why the hell would he be looking at her like this now after what happened? He shouldn't be smiling, his eyes shouldn't be soft. The sheer absurdity and total one-eighty he seemed to be doing bothered her, made the hairs stand up on her arms.

"I realize how crass I must have sounded earlier, and I came back to apologize," he said, his voice echoing that characteristic smoothness he'd used so often around her before Neverland had taken it away. It was soothing, reassuring. She still fought to keep her distance, propelling herself backwards, but his movements were sure, fluid, and quick.

"The mere sight of you, love," he spoke again, "I couldn't, I can't stop myself. Do you know how long it's been since I've felt anything like this before? You're a vision, Emma. I don't want to pretend anymore. I didn't mean to hurt you."

His voice...it washed over her until she was submersed in what felt like folds and valleys of satin that hugged her now shivering body, warming her, stroking her skin and leeching the pain away. Memories of his smile, the feel of his calloused hand over hers when he'd wrapped it in the giant's lair filled her mind, gathered in her chest.

"Damn it Hook, get out before we both regret this," she whispered, crossing her arms in front of her. The growing sensation of warmth in her body was too comforting, too pleasant. Something was off, and she felt her anger well despite the way her hand itched to reach towards him. This was Neverland, her son was in danger, and Hook didn't have any fucking right to make her feel like this. It was just enough to drag her back, bit by bit, until she was able to see beyond the irises of his eyes again. She had to get away from him.

Every last scrap of her clothing rested in a neat pile on a large rock, now at least ten feet away from her, along with the dagger he'd given her. She repeated his words from earlier in her head, mulling them around, tasting their bitterness and venom again. _And the way he'd looked at her. _No, this didn't make a damn bit of sense at all. She considered making a break for it then, even quickly planning the easiest path that would take her to the rock and the dagger, but she just couldn't force herself to rise, to expose herself.

"Emma, please. I did so much for you, can't you see it? I was angry, but I understand now. I could never leave you. Not now or ever." He moved steadily closer, and she back-pedaled as far as she could without losing the necessary depth to cover her, until her back fell against a hot, sun baked rock that jutted upward from the middle of the stream.

She didn't want this. She'd helped him and protected him before, but he had only even been one of those rare constants in her life, someone that kept popping up, someone she might have related to on some strange level. He had helped her before too, and there had been odd moments when she felt a sort of affinity for him, but she'd never considered anything like this. After the night on the Jolly Roger, after seeing him and the way he was with Regina…that was not the man she wanted to know. The man staring at her now wasn't the partner she's climbed the beanstalk with. He wasn't the befuddled, pained man in the hospital who had tried to explain why he did bad things.

This was the Hook that _did_ bad things.

"Don't do this," she said. "Just get out!"

But it was pointless.

He was on her in a second, her body trapped between his heat and the searing burn of the rock behind her. He slid through the water so quickly, barely even making waves, and yet it had been too fast for her to react, to fight. Sparks seemed to shoot through her as his leather clad chest pressed against hers, folding her breasts against him, his hand gripping the back of her neck with a desperation and ferocity that stirred terror within her, along with something darker and deeper that scared her even more than the way his eyes shone with an undeniable animalistic brutality.

"Hook, get off me," she struggled, brought her hands up to his shoulders and pushed, shoved. His didn't move an inch. She tried to kick him, but the water made her legs move comically slow, the force lost in its cushioning resistance. She remembered the injury on his shoulder, and tried to shove her hand and fingers against it. "Get the fuck off before I – "

"Before you what?" he whispered, the question genuinely curious, not like a threat. It was coaxing, playful, and so unlike the dark set of his face that it momentarily confused her.

Holy hell. It suddenly felt like every last nerve in her body had gone turncoat and began burning with such intensity, such absolute, unabashed need that she could have screamed from it. As his thumb circled the sensitive spot below her ear, as pressed every part of him against every part of her, Emma's mind blanked. She couldn't have formed a coherent thought if she tried, especially not with the way his head dipped down, the coarseness of his beard suddenly dragging across the skin of her throat, her chest, until…

"Fuck," she gasped, the sudden warm heat of his tongue now tracing over the gash above her breasts. He repositioned his hand until it cupped the underside of her neck, forcing her head back, stretching her skin until she felt the scabs peeling apart, the sting of fresh pain, the wetness under his tongue as it bled more, pulsing out with each beat of her heart.

God this was so wrong.

"Hook," she panted, "Hook stop. Stop." She shoved at his chest again, as hard as she could, forcing herself to break through whatever haze had captured her.

But the tinge of red on his parted lips made something deep within her tighten, squeeze, throb.

Her mind went back to that white place when his lips, flavored with blood and spring water, fell against hers and began devouring her. She couldn't help it when her mouth opened, and her hands went from shoving at his body to gripping him closer when he flooded her with his taste, his hot tongue sliding along hers, pressing against her teeth. Her lips felt like they were being crushed, she felt his bite against them, and his hand had quite quickly moved from her neck to her breast, squeezing it under the water, fingers slipping and digging into her flesh. A needy, desperate sound came from her throat and he drank it in, sucking her very breath away.

What was happening? Had she really wanted him like this all along? Even after Regina –

_Ever since Regina._

Her mind was lost again as her hands circled his body of their own accord, delving down his shoulders and back until she was gripping firm handfuls of wet leather, squeezing his ass as his hand continued to mold the soft flesh of her breast to his fist.

She became vaguely aware that it was beginning to hurt, that he was pressing too hard against her, that his teeth were too sharp along her swollen lips and tongue, but she couldn't pull away. She didn't want to pull away. She wanted him to hold her even tighter, she wanted him to draw more blood, she needed him to consume her, to take her under, make everything go away –

"_What are you doing?"_

The familiar words suddenly echoed back to her. She remembered that they were his words from their first night in Neverland, but for the life of her couldn't imagine why they came to her now.

"_Getting ready for a fight," she answered him, using a makeshift pull-up bar below deck to heave herself up and over until her arms burned. She'd needed an escape, something to distract her from the worried glances of her parents, the black night outside that separated her from Henry, Hook… _

"_And who exactly will you be fighting? Do you even know what you're up against?" he asked, standing behind her like a shadow she couldn't lose._

"_Anyone that gets in my way," she grunted back, her body becoming heavier. "I don't care who it is, or what it is. They're not going to stop me from getting Henry back."_

_She'd heard him chuckle behind her, but she'd done her best to ignore him. She pulled herself up and over the bar three more times._

"_You've got a good spirit, at least. Don't lose that. This place will do everything it can to drain it from you. Keeping focused might be your only chance."_

_Focused…_

She came back to herself with that thought, that memory, just in time to really feel the way he clawed at her, the way his entire aura leaked blackness and…and _death._ This was so beyond every realm of wrong. The haze was instantly gone, this time shattered like glass amongst the rocks, and she realized that the thing attacking her face now, whatever was trying to eat her from the inside out, it wasn't Hook. Even in his darkest moments, this sure as hell wasn't him.

She couldn't give in, she couldn't be so god damned weak. Her son was waiting for her. Henry needed her. She ripped her mouth away, and sucked in just enough air to scream this first word that came to her.

"HOOK!"

Whatever held her trapped against that rock immediately reacted to her cry. Blue bled away into white until nothing but a tiny spot of black pricked the center of its eyes. Sharpened nails grew out of his – _it's_ hands, digging daggers into her skin.

"Hook!" she screamed again, fear uncoiling in her gut like the slimy beast it was, circling her heart and gripping her lungs. She started shoving again, renewed vigor and strength flooding into her arms, her legs. She threw her fists at his face, dug her own nails into the skin, and managed to slip herself from between it and the rock, but only for a moment. She screamed again when Hook' visage suddenly disappeared altogether from beneath her hands, transforming into what she could only describe as a wet, hollowed, corpse-like shadow of a creature, incorporeal as her hands slid through its body into nothingness, only to have it solidify again, trapping her arms in a swirling, cold mass of sodden flesh and sucking pressure.

White eyes stared from over-large sockets as its mouth opened into a gaping, jagged hole. A long, jet black tongue snaked its way out towards her as inky slime and spittle dripped from its boney chin, falling on her skin as she struggled, squirmed.

Screamed. She hadn't stopped screamed, and she realized with heart-stopping desperation that it was all she could do. Her arms were trapped to their elbows in the creature, bones grinding along the skin of her forearms as spongy, malleable innards moved around them. She felt bile rush up her throat, stomach acid burning her esophagus as her body heaved and convulsed. Its black mouth was so close her face now, the snake-like tongue tracing the edges of the opening as if it had lips.

The bones that were its fingers encircled her neck, immediately closing off her air as it bended and warped the pliable muscles underneath. It felt like her head grew twice in size as the pressure built, as the trapped blood tried to fight past the cold death-grip, as she struggled for air. There was nothing her mind could grasp onto, no strong emotion, no single image or moment or god damned happy thought. Instead of the whiteness that the creature had pressed her into before, her mind was now a jumbled mess of colors, sounds, smells, images and memories, harsh and blinding and just as incapacitating. It was a small mercy when her eyes lost their sight to the encroaching blackness, blocking out the horrific sight as her chest fluttered, her lungs starving and shriveling as her pulse faded.

"No!" she heard a distant cry, one that might have mattered had her consciousness not been slipping away. She heard another noise though, one that sounded so strange to her ears that the last vestiges of her awareness clung to it. She had long since stopped screaming, but there was a howl surrounding her now, the sharpest most painful screech she'd ever heard. It was worse even than the mermaids, louder and a thousand times more alien and terrifying. There was a light that shone through her closed lids, wiping away the darkness, and before she knew what had happened, the vice around her neck was gone, and she was gulping in mouthfuls of air.

Emma realized that her arms were free just in time to fan them out beside her, struggling to keep her head above the surface of the water as her knees scraped the rocky bottom. Slowly the blanket across her vision faded away into that familiar red-tinted light, the setting sun's obscene bloody glow filling her eyes, bringing the world into focus.

The first thing she saw was green. Green and hovering just over the water. Two thin, pale-white arms wrapped themselves just under hers and held her so she wasn't fighting to stay above the surface anymore. Curly, wild blonde hair outlined a soft and feminine face. Red lips smiled back at her while green eyes widened under thick lashes. Something moved behind the figure, something fluttering rapidly in the air, the light catching and spilling rainbows into the water.

Splashing ensued beside her, and as her eyes turned she caught sight of a black figure, striking and dark compared to the soft, unthreatening presence now supporting her. She flinched without thinking, her whole body tensing again.

"I'll pull her to shore, Killian. You're the last person she needs to see right now. Get back."

The words weren't overly harsh, and the woman's tone wasn't even the least bit commanding, but the splashing soon stopped, and whoever this Killian was backed away until his was only a dark blur in her peripheral vision. Killian…why did that sound familiar?

She pondered the name while the woman led her out of the water, and Emma recognized that she was actually trying to help cover her, keeping herself as a shield between her and whoever this Killian was. Why did she know that name? Killian…

Hook.

"Oh God," Emma rasped, her voice harsh and scratchy. "I need…I need my clothes now," she said, now scrambling away from the woman and towards the rock. She needed clothes. She needed to cover herself and erase what had just happened. She needed the dagger, wanted the fucking dagger. Her legs were weak and wobbly as she scrambled over the uneven stream bed, and the woman's arms were back around her in a second, pulling her back up.

"Almost there. He's not looking. You're safe. Killian might be a tease, but he's no incubus. I take it you realized that, though."

"Wha – incubus, what the hell are you…"

"Here. Can you dress yourself on your own?"

Emma glanced back at the woman, taking in all of her appearance for the first time. She was younger, almost child-like in the way her wide eyes stared at her, but there was no diminishing her more-than-womanly chest and the shapely legs which soared out of a nearly too-short…dress? Leaved and feathered green fabric comprised the frock, golden short-boots covering her feet, and beyond that…_she had wings_. A part of transparent, glowing, fluttering wings stuck out of her back, and as Emma grabbed her pants and hastily shoved them over her legs, the woman hovered ever so slightly off the ground, shrinking before her very eyes until she was the size of a large bird.

With her pants fastened and secure, the dagger's weight comfortable riding on her hip again, Emma almost began to feel better, even as she watched the small lady dart away like a hummingbird. She followed the light until it came to rest yards away on a black shoulder, Hook's. He was facing away from her, unmoving, his arms crossed as the…God let's face it…_fairy _buzzed in his ear, her pale skin glowing golden now.

Once Emma clasped her bra and slid the straps up her arms, it only took her a second to yank the black camisole back over her head, and only then did she let her herself lean against the rock, carefully massaging the sore skin and muscles around her throat.

It hadn't been him. He hadn't come after her in the water. He hadn't told her how sorry he was, and he hadn't shoved his tongue down her throat and turned her into that weak, pathetic ghost of herself against that rock. He hadn't been the one to hurt her.

"Breathe, idiot," she chided herself, quickly flicking her eyes away and trying to ease the still volatile emotions boiling inside of her.

A moment passed before she noticed the woman's presence again. The fairy became full grown in the blink of an eye.

"I thought this form might be less shocking. Killian said you're from a land that doesn't have beings such as myself."

"Well, kind of," she shook her head, hating how quiet she was forced to keep her hoarse voice. "I mean, I know a fairy, but I've never seen her…small version."

"That's strange – "

"Are you alright, Swan?" Hook's voice cut the woman off, his impatience thinly veiled. Emma looked up and saw that his back was still to her.

"I'll be okay," she answered, because it would have been too grievous a lie to say that she was "alright." In fact, she was so far from it that she thought about chunking a rock at him for even asking. She focused back on the woman instead. "Let me guess…Tinkerbell?" she asked.

"Killian's told you about me, then?" she beamed, clapping her hands together once, and Emma could have sworn she saw gold glitter shake off her skin.

"No, I haven't," Hook answered for her. He had finally turned and was walking back towards them, and Emma immediately felt the muscles in her shoulder bunch. _How the hell had that thing managed to look exactly like him? _She could still taste it in her mouth, feel it in the sharp sting of the laceration across her chest. And he was walking towards her again, stalking towards her…

He stopped dead in his path, still feet away, eyes flicking from her hip to her face. The expression behind his suddenly wary eyes was unreadable, but it knocked her back out of her thoughts. She followed his gaze and saw that the dagger was no longer in the belt, but gripped in her palm.

"Oh don't look so mortified, you're not the first girl to ever pull a dagger on him," Tinkerbell's oddly musical voice startled her, distracted her. Her cheerfulness sounded so out of place that it left Emma staring back at her quite blankly.

"What?"

"That girl Wendy did once too, though I don't think she would have used it, and I'm pretty sure I have once or twice before..."

"Enough, Tinkerbell," Hook's rough voice silenced her. "Give the lass room to breathe."

Maybe it was his saying her name for the first time that struck something in her, but Emma suddenly realized one very important detail from the Peter Pan stories that she'd grown up with as a kid.

"Tinkerbell...you're _Peter Pan's_ Tinkerbell," she said, mostly to herself, but the way the fairy's smile suddenly disappeared was more than enough acknowledgment. Emma's legs suddenly felt a hundred times steadier, the aches and soreness draining away until all she could feel was a serene sort of buzzing just under her skin. The dagger was lighter, her movements quicker, and before the freaking fairy could even move Emma had launched herself at her. She landed on top of her body, watching with a dark sort of satisfaction as fragile wings crumpled into the ground, and she brought Hook's poison-laced blade to her throat.

"Where is my son?" she asked, her words barely more than a hiss. Tinkerbell's wide, too-green eyes stared back up at her, her mouth parted in surprise. "Where is he?" Emma shook her, the blade dangerously close to biting into her skin. Would the poison even work on a fairy? Emma brushed the thought aside, and imagined that since she felt so solid and alive under her, a blade would have been enough on its own to do some kind of damage.

"Bloody hell, Swan. Get off her!" she heard Hook exclaim behind her, and she felt the recoil of something hot and furious inside her as he tried to pry her hand and dagger away from the petite white neck.

"Get away! She knows where he is, she part of all this!" she shouted, taking the dagger out of the hand he was trying to pull away and nestling it back against the right side of her neck with her left hand. "Where is Henry? Why does Pan want him? Answer me!"

"Swan, stop!" he continued struggling with her, and she felt her rage boil all the hotter as his arm encircled her chest, lifting her bodily off the still woman.

"You bastard, let me go!"

"You have no idea what you're doing - "

Tinkerbell quite suddenly wasn't on the ground anymore. Emma stopped struggling when she saw the space in the dirt where she had pinned her, gold pieces of glitter the only sign that she had ever been there at all.

"Where...where did she go?"

"I saved your life, you know."

The voice seemed to ring out from somewhere above them, Emma craning her neck upward and trying to shove herself away from Hook. His arm only tightened around her.

"She didn't know, Tink. She's upset. Her boy is missing. She doesn't know the rules - "

"You should have explained them to her, Killian!"

_Rules?_

"I will!" he shouted, close enough to her ear that it rattled her. "But you can't lose your temper like this. What would Pan say if you didn't follow his orders. You're here to help us, not - "

Emma jerked her head back as a large ball of red suddenly appeared right before her eyes, nearly brushing her nose. Tiny orbs of green shone out of it, less than an inch from her own.

"Not what? Gouge her eyeballs out with my hands? Cut her tongue off and feed her back to the incubus?" the ball said, its comically high voice grating against her ears. Emma couldn't have moved either way without the ball accidentally touching her face, and something told her that would have been a very bad thing. She tried to push backwards, but Hook wouldn't move.

"Tink, please?" he asked, and Emma resisted the sudden urge to look back at him. His tone was softer than she's ever heard before, tender even. He was still tense, but his breathing slowed and his heart beat became less pronounced against her back. Emma remained frozen while his hand swept up beside her, his fingers gently brushing against the shining red ball as it hovered in the air. _He was caressing it_.

Slowly, the ball faded from red and back into a golden glow, the brightness diminishing until Emma could see the fairy's actual body, her face. Tiny hands reached out and grasped Hook's thumb, a cheek rested on its pad.

"You should have told her, Killian," the pitchy voice admonished again, but this time without the murderous intent. Her wings stopped fluttering, and the fairy was suddenly resting in his hand, her feet dangling over his wrist as the miniature woman sat in his palm, her hands now twisting one of his large silver rings.

Emma took the opportunity to dart away, putting a good few feet between her and them. She really, really wanted to sit down, to erase the bizarre image from her head, but she couldn't look away.

"I underestimated how much of her father is in her, " Hook said, and the remark clearly wasn't complimentary.

"Can you blame me?" she asked, the sight of them making her wish that she had a bottle of freaking Xanax. "I can't even comprehend what is going on right now. Why the hell would Peter Pan want her to help us? And what the fuck did you mean about 'the rules'? They have Henry! Is this supposed to be some kind of sick game?"

"Yes, actually," he answered, dropping his hand as Tinkerbell disappeared and reappeared beside him, fully grown again. "That's exactly what this is."

The way his eyes averted hers, the tight set of his jaw as the muscles in his face worked back and forth...he wasn't kidding.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's Peter's game," Tinkerbell answered, her voice quiet, more somber than it had been before. "It's supposed to be his greatest adventure."

The words sunk into Emma's chest and took root, chilling her heart.

"But...why would he want Henry? What does he have to do with any of this?"

"You're all here because of him, aren't you?" she said. "Captain Hook, the Evil Queen, the Dark One, the Savior, a prince and a princess. What better players for the world's greatest game?"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: A bit of a break after last chapter's fast pace, and more of Neverland's secrets are revealed. I also may or may not have delved into a new perspective for part of it. Let me know how I did? Oh, and anybody else excited about the fact that in ONE WEEK we get the season premiere? I'm only freaking out a little, promise ;) **

**Haha, seriously. I'm freaking out. Hope you guys enjoy! (btw, it's so much fun to write this while listening to the Hook movie OST and the Dark Knight OST. Perfect combo.)**

**Chapter 11**

"Have you figured out why he hasn't left us yet?" Snow asked, watching as Rumplestiltskin waved his hand and made the small row boat that she and David had come ashore in disappear before their very eyes. The past few hours had been tense, uncomfortable, and draining as they had taken turns watching Rumplestiltskin, carefully observing his every move, every bit of magic he used. He'd somehow managed to repair the worst of the damage to the ship, though it still only just remained above water. He had set out with them just as soon as they'd reached a darker, nearly covered cove around the opposite side of the island from where Emma had come ashore. He said this particular inlet was called Serpent Sands, and Snow had judged it was due to the strange tropical trees and their tendril-like branches that dipped into the water and floated atop the surface like snakes.

"No," David sighed, "but there has to be a reason. He's not hanging around just for our company."

"And certainly not for the conversation," Rumplestiltskin quipped, turning towards them. His face was set in a wide smirk. "It gets dreadfully boring when the topic only revolves around the one subject, even if it is me."

"Why are you still here, then?" David said, raising his voice over the sound of the tide. "Maybe if you answered us up front, we wouldn't need to guess."

"Maybe if you stopped worrying about other people's business, you wouldn't wonder in the first place," he answered, his tone falling back again into the deeper, more menacing baritone of Mr. Gold.

"David, it's pointless," Snow shook her head. "All we can do at this point is use him for as long as we can." She directed the last few words at the familiar, though still strange face of the man across from them. She still wasn't used to seeing the all too human face set over the scaled, reptilian garb he'd worn in the Enchanted Forest as the Dark One. While flashes of his more malevolent and slithery nature would slip into his eyes or posture occasionally, he still appeared mostly as a man, and it seriously unnerved her.

"It breaks the heart to know I'm so untrusted," he said, though the amused glint in his eyes contradicted his words.

"Can we just start moving so we can find Emma and Henry? We're wasting time."

"David's right, we need to go," Snow nodded, turning to face the thick undergrowth beyond them. The plants were smaller close to the shore, and grew more thickly along the ground, but she could see the abrupt rise of the jungle further towards the heart of the island. Towering, thick trees shot up along the horizon, twisting into strange shapes and flaunting strange hues of green that she had never seen before.

"And we shall, my dear. But," he raised a finger, "not until dawn."

"What?" Snow spun back around. "No, we are not going to sit around here and wait when we're this close. Henry and Emma could be in danger right now, we can't just wait," Snow said, the beginnings of anger pecking through her composed exterior.

"Oh but we can. I've dealt with Pan before, and I can assure you he won't do anything drastic now. Not until he's bored, and I think it's safe to say your daughter and that pirate have kept him quite entertained. He won't want to rush this."

"What do you mean 'entertained?'" David snapped, "What's happening?"

"It seems he's learned a trick or two," Rumplestiltskin mused, his eyes becoming unfocused as he turned his head towards the island's interior. Snow could see the way his body stilled, how his face slackened as he focused on something, something neither she nor David could discern.

After nearly a minute, she felt the light brush of David's fingertips on the back of her hand, and she reminded herself to breathe. When Rumplestiltskin finally turned back around, a brief flash of something...if she hadn't known him she might have called it hesitation...wrinkled his brow.

"Well, well, well," he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "It seems that Pan's been playing with grown-up magic. If I didn't know any better, I'd say there was a portal open somewhere on the island."

"A portal? Like a way home?" Snow asked, almost too afraid to hope.

"A portal is a portal, and with the right tools and magic can be made to go anywhere, but therein lies the problem. There's no way to know where it leads now," he answered, his gaze still locked on the jungle beyond them.

"How can he control something like that? Even you and Regina need a bean or something comparable to open one," David said. "And I've never known one to stay open for longer than a few minutes."

"Indeed." Rumplestiltskin was sneering now, lip pulled back from his teeth like a heckled animal. "It's time for a closer look, I think."

A cloud of blood-red smoke engulfed him, and when it cleared there was nothing left but empty air.

"What - what just happened?" Snow asked aloud, blinking rapidly. "He could do that all along?"

"Apparently." David stared hard into the distance, as if he could somehow see where Rumplestiltskin had gone. "Whatever he sensed must have really caught his attention. And anything that can catch his attention like that can't be good."

"A portal though...it could be a way home once we find Henry," Snow practically whispered, as if saying the words out loud would jinx whatever chance they might have now. "Do you think he'll come back, or should we start searching?"

David sighed, his brow wrinkling as he brought a hand up to massage his temples. Snow could see his exhaustion, feel it herself. Their options were frighteningly few, and it was painfully obvious that they faced some serious disadvantages. She doubted they would make it very far before darkness was upon them, and it would be rough going even in the best possible lighting. She allowed herself for the briefest moment to lean against him, sighing as he brought his arm around her shoulders. She turned into his hug as he held her tighter, the soft thud of his heart under her ear.

"We don't know the land, the animals, the plants," David said, his voice tripping on the edge of defeat. "We'll wait the night like he wanted, but if he doesn't show again by first light we'll start off without him."

Snow nodded, accepting his words even if she couldn't say them herself. Emma and Henry were out there, facing dangers that were beyond anything they'd ever faced before. Her daughter…her grandson…her husband. _Her family._

"It'll be okay," she said, pulling away slightly so that she could look into his eyes. The sheer despair she found in them hurt something deep in her chest, but she let a genuine smile light her face as she swept a hand across his cheek. "We'll be okay. We'll find them. Rumplestiltskin or not, it's just what we do."

* * *

The air around him sizzled with energy. Pure, dark, undiluted energy. What once was a suffocating miasma of dark magic had since cleared as his body adjusted, morphing into the crisp, sharp, intoxicating aroma of _power. _He sat for quite some time on a moss-overgrown stump, breathing in the black and sparking fragrance, reveling in its hum.

And it wasn't long before he began to feel the change in its flow, before he could practically see the way it arched and vibrated around one very particular space.

"Come along, dearie," he spoke to the jungle, "my time is quite precious, and we have a few matters to discuss."

"We certainly do."

Regina's voice cut through the thicket, and Rumple smiled all the wider.

"Did you have a nice swim?" he asked, watching with careful scrutiny as the woman suddenly appeared, looking every bit the perfect protege he'd so carefully groomed in the Enchanted Forest. Her tight leather leggings and fitted green overcoat hugged her closely. The fabric seemed to shimmer and change whenever she moved, blending into the variance of hues that comprised the dense jungle. He laughed again when he saw the emerald choker around her neck. Even in the bowels of Neverland, she still loved her jewels. So much like her mother.

"It was quite...enlightening," she said, tilting her head to the side. "In more ways than one. When I suddenly found my life on the line, everything came back to me. My clarity, my control, my magic. I would thank Hook if I didn't want to kill him so badly."

"I can sympathize," he said, rising from his place on the stump, "with the killing part, of course," he grinned. "But we have more important things to discuss than a dead-man walking. I'm assuming you've sensed it as well?"

"The concentration of dark magic in the heart of the island? Yes, I've sensed it. I've also sensed other things, too. Creatures of the shade that I've never encountered before."

"There's a portal," he said, noting that she'd failed to distinguish exactly what the dark magic was. "And judging by the other creepy crawlies roaming the forest, I'd bet it's to somewhere not so nice."

"Like a hell-world," she said softly, nodding in agreement.

At least he didn't have to spell it out for her.

"I'd only ever read about those," she said, almost to herself. She turned sharply to face him. "They really do exist?"

Rumple laughed again, the sound higher than natural and resonating. It was the sound he made when he wanted people to fear him, to tremble in a crumpled ball in the dirt under his boot.

"Where exactly do you think the Dark One's powers originated? Surely not in the fairy mounds of the Enchanted Forest."

Regina raised a brow. "No. I suppose not. Do you have any idea which world this supposed portal connects Neverland to?"

"None whatsoever, which is why one of us will need to get closer to it."

"That shouldn't be too difficult. These so called lost ones are only boys. Children. I still don't see why we can't just kill all of them now and take Henry back."

"Oh you know so very little," he practically sang, pushing his voice higher an octave as he felt the stirrings of emotion try to fight beyond his usual timbre. "With the kind of power required for Pan to control something like a hell world, neither of us would stand a chance against him. So I ask you, dear Regina, what chance do you think little Henry would have in the face of his wrath if we slaughtered his brats?"

Regina's eyes widened as her mouth worked to throw more useless arguments against him, but to her credit she held her voice back and eventually clacked her teeth closed.

"You see? We need to keep Pan as happy as possible, at least until we can learn more about what is really happening here. Let him play his games a while longer. Give him a show to enjoy every once in a while. _Distract him." _

"And what if you're wrong? What if they brought Henry here to kill him? What if they're hurting him now?"

"Pan brought him here for one reason, and one reason only. To draw all of us together, so he can have his fun. I wish I could say it was more complicated than that, but what more can you expect from the mind of an eternal child? Granted he is powerful, merciless, soulless, and overall an empty shell of something that has long since ceased to be human, but a child nonetheless."

"You sound like you know him quite well," Regina mused, crossing her arms and walking around him. "But how could you possibly know his intentions so well as your claim? Why should I trust you?"

"My dear, I have much better things to do than stand here, wasting my time trying to reassure you. If you wish to take on the conductor of Neverland's dark magic, plus a hell portal, and by yourself, then by all means. Go ahead. Regardless, however, our conversation is over."

"Wait," she said, stopping in front of him. "What about the others? You're helping them, but I need to know if our understanding still means anything. Are you going to help me bring Henry back to the Enchanted Forest, or are you going to help _them _bring him back to Storybrooke?"

"Interesting how you haven't considered that neither one of those options serves to benefit me in any way," he replied. "You should know me better than that by now."

"Are you suggesting we go our separate ways, then? You wanted to kill them not too long before, I don't see what could have changed to make you want to help them."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," he answered. "It did take a near-death experience for you to even realize how utterly insane you'd become, even despite my warnings."

"I wasn't insane, and I'm not now," she replied, her dark eyes flashing. Rumple could feel the air around her simmer with magic. _With power._ "It did affect me more than I had anticipated, but I'm passed it now. Besides, isn't that why you locked yourself in that room? You were no more immune to it than I."

"At least I didn't make a complete fool of myself with a certain captain," he growled, lowering his voice. "Even if we'd had an understanding before, you broke our deal when you refused to take his heart like I had instructed. I owe you nothing, and I've helped you far more than I should have. We're done here," he spat, before suddenly flashing his widest smile at her. "Good luck."

He let himself slip into that crushing blackness between worlds and time and space, emerging from the suffocating black on a white beach, Snow and Prince Charming both staring at him as if they'd seen a ghost.

"So surprised?" He feigned indignation, tsking the startled couple as he did. "Really dearies, you wound me."

* * *

One moment the sun was throbbing along the horizon, the next it plummeted out of sight until the world was awash in the pale glow of the moon. He had always found that the change from the intense, odd light of Neverland's sun to the blue-white, soft glow of its overlarge moon was a relief to his eyes. He leaned his head back against the tree behind him, Tinkerbell's faint golden glow dimly registering in his peripheral vision. She sat beside him, close enough that one of her wings occasionally brushed against his arm whenever she flicked it. He could tell that she was nervous, on edge. Apparently Emma had quite the talent when it came to bringing that out in people.

He rubbed the edge of his sleeve around the metal that glinted back at him from his left arm. Tink had given him his hook back, retrieved from the bloody depths of the ocean by the mermaids and passed along by Pan, with a message.

"You're not really Captain Hook without it," Tink had relayed, handing it to him. "Peter wants you in top condition. It's not good form otherwise."

Hook had glowered at her choice of words, and Tink had laughed at his anger. "It's just like old times, isn't it?" she'd sung, momentarily shrinking and fluttering around his head. "Really, you have no idea how happy I am to finally have you back!"

He'd have swatted her out of the air had her performance from earlier with Emma not reminded him of just how changeable she was. The last thing he wanted to deal with was an enraged fairy, but he at least knew how to handle her. Three-hundred-plus years made her presence familiar, her reasoning predictable. Under any other circumstances he might have even enjoyed seeing Tinkerbell again, but it was difficult to amass any real sense of affection when her presence only meant that Pan was ready to up the stakes.

Tink had helped him more times than he could count in the past, and while most of it had been at Pan's behest, he did recognize in rare moments that the creature was a broken thing. Other fairies existed in Neverland on an island in Lights Lagoon, but Tink had long been cast out by them for reasons he didn't care to know. Pan had adopted her as some kind of pet, and while she would always do whatever the golden boy asked of her, she was a bit too defiant at times to be the picture of obedience.

It helped matters as well that Hook had been the first grown man she'd ever laid eyes on, and his visage had practically enthralled her from their first meeting. It was a bloody shame that her more than womanly form hadn't been able to do him a damn bit of good, though. A certain innocence possessed her which had made any less-than-honorable thoughts impossible, at least beyond what he could feign to keep her temper under control.

So he let her sit beside him, he leaned towards her occasionally when Emma's sudden movements made her jump and glare, and he held back the festering resentment and fury he felt when he considered how helpless he and Emma currently were.

All things considered however, he thought that Tink was actually easier to deal with than the woman sitting across from them both, as far from him as the small space she'd cleared would allow.

"How did you like the fish?" he asked, clearing his throat and grinning slightly as he remembered the distinct look of disgust on Emma's face as he'd pulled the small thing apart, his hook ripping the innards out in one clean stroke. He'd at least been nice enough to carve out the whitest, cleanest meat so she wouldn't have to pick around the bones, but the absolute disdain on her face as she nibbled at the flesh had amused him to no end. It had been just over an hour since he finished his portion off, but half of hers still sat atop a wide, waxy leaf at her feet.

"It was great, thanks," she mumbled, her sarcasm bitingly apparent.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said, grinning wider. She finally threw him a glare.

It was the first time Emma had even looked at him properly since she'd been attacked, and with that small bit of progress he decided now would likely be the best opportunity.

"Tink," he said, turning his gaze to the brightening creature beside him. "You're here to help us, yes?"

"You know I am," she smiled, but after a moment her lips slowly puckered back. "Why?"

"How can we be expected to continue on if we've nothing to eat but raw fish? I was wondering..." he trailed off as he swept a golden lock of curls over her shoulder, "could you fetch us some of those fruits that grow at the tops of grandfather trees? You were always so good at finding the ripest ones."

"I'm not supposed to leave you alone," she said, though the conviction behind her words was less than convincing. "What if the incubus comes back?"

"Then I'll cut its rotted head off," he answered back, perhaps too sharply. Tink flinched away, her eyes growing wary.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said. "I'm not the one trying to kill you, remember?"

_No, she was only the creature prolonging their torture._

"Of course not," he said, trying to soften his tone. "Forgive me, but it's been quite the difficult day."

A sudden snigger behind him brought the curl of a smile back to his face, and Tink must have thought it was meant for her. She soon matched it.

"I will, then," she said. "Just…just don't go anywhere. I don't want Peter to find out and be angry with me." There was a glimmer of true fear in her eyes, and he felt the beginnings of regret tighten his chest. How many times before had he tricked her and she'd gone missing for days?

"Look, there's nowhere for us to go, and you're our best lead so far. We'll be here when you get back," Emma spoke up from behind him, the assurance in her voice surprising. "We both promise."

Tink watched her carefully for a moment before finally nodding once. She locked her excited eyes on his. "I'll be back soon."

She burned against the night sky like a shooting star, golden dust fading in her wake.

"We both promise?" he echoed back to Emma, raising a brow. "Since when did I say you could toss my oaths around so loosely?"

"You can't tell me we're actually going to try and run away from a fairy," she said, more a statement than a question.

He sighed, eying the space around them. "No, we're not."

"Why did you go through all that just to get her to leave?"

"Because we need to talk." He met her eyes across the space that separated them, noting the claw marks on her arm and the circles under her eyes. It was darker now that Tink's warm glow was absent, but the moon was bright and his eyes had long since adjusted to the dark.

"You finally going to explain what the hell is going on?" she asked, her voice tense.

"Yes, I am, and keep your bloody voice down." He rose to a knee, and watched her closely as he carefully angled himself towards her, before shifting and settling back on the ground beside her. She kept eye contact, and even refrained from pulling the dagger out. Progress indeed.

"First and foremost," he pushed forward, turning his head towards her and speaking softly, "you need to understand that Tinkerbell is not our friend, nor is she our ally, and in the end she would gladly serve us to Pan on a platter if he only asked. You're not to discuss any strategy around her, or let yourself end up alone with her. You stay by my side and keep that scathing wit of yours to yourself. Otherwise...well, I think you saw what the consequences could be."

She scoffed. "You seem comfortable enough around her. What's the deal anyway? How well do you actually know her?"

"Better than I ever wanted to, that's for damn sure," he answered, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. He paused before going on, mentally preparing himself for the memories he was about to drudge up. Memories he'd fought hard to lock away and forget.

"It's bad, isn't it?" she asked, her voice quiet. He knew that she was speaking in broad terms, and simple as the word 'bad' was, he couldn't help but acknowledge the poignant and honest force behind it.

"Perceptive, as always." Hook closed his eyes, the ache in his arm spasming as tension locked his shoulders. "I will say this," he sighed, sitting up straighter in an attempt to relieve the pressure. "My experience here, the three-hundred years I spent looking for a way to escape, it was a hell that I don't care to endure again. I've faced mental and physical torture at the hands of a boy who'd just as soon carve out a heart as pluck the wings off a butterfly. And yet, even now, I haven't…" He trailed off, the scene with Emma at the stream replying vividly in his mind's eye. "I've never come across a creature such as what attacked you earlier."

"The incubus," Emma finished. "She said it was an incubus."

Hook opened his eyes and saw that her gaze was trained on the ground, her body seeming to shrink away without moving. He felt a flicker of annoyance, let his face draw tight as she wrapped her arms around herself, a hand toying near the hilt of the dagger. "But so what?" she said. "Just because it never attacked you…that doesn't mean it wasn't here all along."

"Emma, I saw it," he said, drawing the words out. "Before it transformed into that vision of hell."

She remained quiet beside him, jostling the metal of the dagger against its sheath as her fingers rocked over it. He thought for a moment that he should move, give her room to breathe, but instead he slid slightly closer.

Earlier, Tinkerbell had appeared to him just as soon as Emma had fallen out of sight at the stream, a ball of bright, over-excited energy buzzing around his head, assaulting his senses. He recognized now that the timing was far too perfect for it to have been a coincidence, and he'd realized too late that she had only been distracting him. She'd prevented him from listening like he should have been, diverting his attention, leaving Emma open and defenseless and alone. There was no denying that it was still eating him alive, the fact that Emma could hardly look at him because of what that _thing _had done, that Pan had made the first move and he'd fallen splendidly for it. A magnificent failure by all accounts. "Emma…"

"I don't know why it looked like you so don't even ask," she suddenly said, cutting him off.

He leaned over and searched for her eyes. "I would think the answer to that is quite obvious, love." There was hardly any space between them now, and her fingers went from fiddling with the handle to gripping it tightly, knuckles whitened. Her gaze remained steadfastly focused on a point off in the distance, away from him.

"Pan's dog chasing us to the stream wasn't a random attack," he pressed forward. "Tinkerbell drawing my attention long enough for that creature to approach you wasn't an accident. And that thing taking on my form...well, it's all working out so we're both at a constant disadvantage, isn't it?"

She didn't answer, the circle of silence around her both telling and infuriatingly perplexing. He wanted to know what she was thinking. He wanted to show her that he didn't care anymore about the damn magic, about what happened on his ship, any of it. It struck him quite suddenly that he just didn't want her to be afraid of him, that it everything they'd put each other through meant so damn little now.

"Emma, look at me," he demanded, refusing to move.

"What?" she bit back, louder than he would have liked, but after a moment she did meet his gaze. He noticed her eyes flicker down towards his lips once before holding his stare.

"He's trying to drive us apart," he spoke softly, easing his voice out of the harsh tone. "We haven't quite been the perfect team, and yet we've survived the day together. But," he paused, taking in the way her wide, frantic eyes seemed to relax, her grip on the dagger loosening, "we won't survive much longer unless we can maintain at least some semblance of trust. I don't know where that creature came from, but it wasn't something we just happened upon. The whole idea, this whole game Pan plays," he waved his hand and watched as her eyes were drawn towards it before continuing, "it's about proving how clever he is, showing us how many moves he can think ahead while we struggle and die trying to keep up."

He noticed at once that she seemed to be focusing on something between them, and the glazed sheen to her stare suggested she hadn't comprehended a single fucking word he'd just said.

"Are you even listening to me - "

"Your rings..." she mused, almost too quiet to hear, "…your stupid rings." He automatically held his hand back up.

"What about them?" he asked, tone flat as he struggled to keep up with her train of thought. Here he was trying to tell her that he bloody well wasn't some beast that would hurt her, and all she could comment on was the bit of shine that he wore on his hand?

He raised a brow when her hands suddenly grasped his, the swift motion stirring pain in his arm. "Swan, what the hell do you think - "

"It didn't have them," she shook her head, mussed blonde waves fanning over his shoulder as she turned it over. "I didn't feel them when..."

She just stopped talking , emotion slowly draining from her flushed face as she held the rest of the words in…as Hook's chest collapsed under the terrible epiphany in an agonizing moment of clarity.

"When what?" he abruptly snapped. He'd only gotten to her in time to watch as the incubus had tried to strangle her. Was that what she meant? Isn't that all it had done? _But it had practically fully reverted by then_. He closed his fingers around one of her hands and squeezed. "What exactly did that thing do, Emma?" he asked, the question burning on his tongue. "Before, when you thought it was me, _what did it do? _Why is it important that you didn't feel my rings against your skin?_"_

"Hook…just, just give it a rest…"

"Emma, stop looking away from me," he said, the warning in his voice harsh to his own ears, but she didn't flinch. She looked at him again, her hand remaining in his. He loosened his grip, perceiving the startling fragility against his rough palm. Emma wasn't leaning away from him anymore, she wasn't shrinking back. After a moment, a moment that could have lasted an hour, a day, a year, the lines in her forehead smoothed as she squeezed his hand back.

"In my world," she said softly, her thumb brushing over the red stone on his finger, "where Storybrooke is, there are stories about something called an incubus. They're creatures that feed on nightmares, dreams, lust, blood…it just depends on who you hear it from, and they usually appear in the form of a man that comes upon some stupid, lonely girl…and it seduces her. I mean," the shell of a laugh caught in her throat, "I guess that's the right way to describe it. Seduce…yeah, it's the right word," she shook her head at herself. "Anyway, when Tinkerbell said it was an incubus, it made sense. Something about it caught me in a spell, like a siren I guess," she shrugged, remembering something from Henry's book, "and you – _it_…it tried to live up to the legends back home. And I…I guess I fell for it."

Emma's voice went soft at the end, a whisper. "But it wasn't you." Her hand was tightly gripping his now, the fragility gone and a strength present that startled him. Inside, a clash of emotions unlike anything he'd ever felt before was suddenly rising to the surface, clawing from the inside, screaming to be let out.

She'd let it near her thinking it was him. Siren's song or no, Emma had embraced it, fully believing it to be him, expecting care, relief, release. She'd trusted him, or at least wanted to.

And where had he been? Truly? Chatting up a blasted fairy that he knew too well had been playing him from the start. He'd left her, he'd failed her, and in all the seven hells he couldn't fathom why it mattered so damn much. Why it hurt.

"Speechless for once?" she said, a wry undertone lending her voice a more familiar quality.

"I'm sorry, love," he said, keeping the words simple. He didn't trust that the powder keg inside of him wouldn't explode otherwise. He was the one who looked away now, gently disengaging her hand so he could brace it behind him before rising from the ground.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and he felt her eyes on him. _Didn't she realize that they were bloody burning another hole through him?_

He glanced up into the sky, a faint noise like the sound of wind chimes drifting downward. "Remember what I said about Tinkerbell. Let me deal with her. I don't expect much trouble tonight, but you never really know. I'll keep watch. Try to sleep. We're setting out for the natives' tribe tomorrow."

"I…what…that's not what I want to talk about now. How can you just…?" she stuttered, trailed off, before sighing heavily. "What the hell are you even talking about anyway? Natives?"

He was spared having to answer her question by the sudden illumination that fell across their measly camp. A jumble of large, purplish fruits thudded against the ground as Tinkerbell tossed them at his feet, dazzling white teeth bared from ear to ear as she landed in front of him.

"Well? You think this is enough for a few days?" she beamed, her eyes dancing like fireflies.

"Yes, my dear," he smiled widely back, drawing out his syllables. "These will do quite nicely. Well done, sweetheart." He picked up one of the larger ones, and quickly plunged his hook into the tough outer skin, cutting through the rind carefully so that the yellow fruit inside didn't leak juice over his hand. He handed it to Emma.

"Go on, it's not poison, Swan. Take it. I imagine it will be more palatable to your delicate tongue than the green fins," he drawled, immediately noticing her intense stare, the shadow of confusion and hurt beyond the narrowed set of her eyes. They cleared quickly enough though, and he was already shoving their stolen moment to the back of his mind. He could think about it later, perhaps when Tink's too-prying eyes were diverted elsewhere.

"Whatever," she sighed, taking it from him. He saw her eyes catch on his hand again, and there was a brief moment when her fingertips brushed his. "Thanks."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: It's late, my eyes hurt, and there might be a typo or two, but the chapter is FINALLY complete. It only took me three weeks haha. With the new episodes, it took a bit more to get into DTM, but I've hit a nice flow now. I thought about making it two chapters, but after the long wait I figure it's only fair I give you guys the (almost) whole thing. Let me know what you think about the way it's headed ;).**

**Chapter 12**

"I'm sorry."

It was the first thing Tink had said in a few hours. Night was slipping away, and even her eyes had closed briefly, her ever-fluttering wings slowing and stopping for some time. It had taken every last ounce of his resolve to keep his own eyes open while his brain screamed for rest, his body aching to let go and drift off. Emma had only relented to letting him take first watch when he promised to wake her after a few hours. In all fairness, he had originally intended to, but the sight of her face, peaceful for the first time in days, made it too difficult for him to do anything but sit and grant her a few hours more.

"You always are," he sighed, answering the fairy. His voice was quiet from hours of disuse.

Green and gold filled his vision as Tink moved herself in front of him, her eyes imploring. "But you know that I mean it."

"Of course I do," he answered automatically. Have I been angry with you?"

"Yes."

He looked at her closely, bracing for an outburst, watching for the slightest sign of change. But Tink remained golden and wide-eyed, her demeanor bordering on submissive.

"Keep your voice down," he finally sighed. "You'll wake her."

"Killian..." Tink grasped a handful of his sleeve, pulling herself up so that she was on her knees in front of him. "Why? You weren't like this before. You knew I never wanted to hurt you. I don't want to hurt her either, but he doesn't give me a choice. I have to do what he says, you know that."

"Do I?" he ventured, her apologetic nature nothing new, but something was different. He used his hook to nudge her hand away from his sleeve, but she just grabbed onto that instead.

"Yes, you do," she insisted, her voice rising again. He jerked his hook back, but she only came with it until she was half-sprawled across him. He averted his eyes to above her head.

"Let go, Tink," he warned, his patience worn to the bone. "I'm not in the mood for this." He knew he was treading a fine line, that it could easily cost him something if he alienated her now, but he couldn't think past what could have happened...what _did_ happen to Emma because of her, because he'd been too stupid and careless.

"Why haven't you ever looked at me like you look at her?"

The question was whispered, wistful. He glanced quickly at Emma, over to where she was curled in a half-sitting position against a tree. He'd shown her how to wrap the wide palm leaves around the trunk, saving her skin from the abrasive bark and creating at least an illusion of padding. It wasn't comfortable by any means, but she'd still gone under nearly as soon as her eyes closed.

"Because you wouldn't know what to do with such a look," he answered quietly, grasping her arm and moving her off. He hadn't meant it to sound cruel. It was honest, she couldn't fault him for lying, and while it could have been phrased more delicately, he couldn't be bothered to care much about her feelings at the moment.

Tink sat on her heels now, her wings slowly sweeping forward and back. The breeze ruffled his hair. "Wouldn't know what to do with it?" she repeated. "What could someone do with a look?"

"As I said, I'm not in the mood," he tried to brush her off, to save himself from delving deeper into a topic he had no desire to expound upon. She was actually quiet for a moment, and he let himself hope that she'd moved beyond the subject.

"Peter and Wendy give each other kisses after those looks."

Hook stilled, the words striking a part of his brain like lightening. He wasn't sure which part of what she said affected him more, the kissing part or the Wendy part, but either way he recognized what she'd just given him. He hardly dared show any kind of reaction, because he was quite certain that she had just imparted something that she shouldn't have.

"Peter _and _Wendy?" he said quietly, straightening his back as he sat up. "Wendy, as in that girl who came here just before Baelfire? The one Pan sent back?"

"You're missing the point," Tink replied, a flash of anger in her gaze.

"I have no idea what 'look' you're even talking about. But..." he tried to smile, and leaned towards her, "if you tell me about Wendy, I won't be angry anymore."

He had to know what she meant. If Pan had the girl with him in Neverland again, then they could use her. It was a weakness. _The bloody demon had a weakness._ "Tink," he pressed, "tell me about Wendy. Why would he bring her back?"

The fairy stared back at him, her lips set in a hard, thin line. She was quiet for a long moment.

"Tinkerbell..."

"I want a kiss," she finally said, leaning towards him. Her eyes reflected a fierceness comparable to how Emma would occasionally glare at him. A determination that fed his growing anxiety.

"I'm not going to -"

"Peter won't give me a kiss," she cut him off. "He says only Wendy can have his, but you don't have a Wendy. That makes it okay."

He glanced down at his right forearm, the name etched there covered by black cloth. _Bloody fucking hell._

"I am not going to do that," he answered steadily, punctuating the spaces between the words. "You don't understand what it means."

"It means you care about someone," she answered, her shoulders lifting and face alighting with something akin to confidence. "It means you want to protect them. I'm not as stupid as you think."

Protect? _No, not stupid at all. Useful, even._

"So..." he paused, rubbing his hand through his beard as he considered her phrasing, "Pan wants to protect her? What is it exactly that he's protecting her from?"

Tinkerbell was quiet, and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head as her eyes flicked away. When she looked at him again though, the determination in her gaze was almost palpable.

"I will only tell you if you give me what I want. I'll not say another word until then." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, wings fluttering more quickly now. He could see the bright blush in her pale cheeks, and for a moment he even pitied the poor creature.

"Just give her one, Hook."

Emma's voice startled him. When his eyes fell on her she was still leaning against the tree, but her eyes were very much open, alert. It took every bit of his concentration to keep his face blank, expressionless, but inside he was fuming. _Who the hell was she to tell him who or what to bloody kiss?_

"I don't see how you're in any position to demand that of me, unless you're the one asking for it," he smirked, though there wasn't even the slightest bit of amusement behind it.

She rolled her eyes. "For Christ's sake, it's just a kiss. She's trying to help us." After expelling some sort sound that hinted at exasperation, Emma stood. Her eyes trained on the ground, she bent over and began pacing.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't answer him and continued searching for...something. Tink was steadily staring at him, her fixed gaze unnerving.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked, watching Emma and trying to ignore the fairy.

"Long enough to know that it's been way more than a few hours. You're an idiot." She suddenly plucked something off the ground and straightened.

He couldn't see what it was, but Hook found that he was suddenly more interested in her choice of phrase. "Idiot?" he echoed. "I'm an idiot for trying to be a damn gentleman and letting you sleep? Pardon me while I reevaluate my intelligence level." _Did she even realize how hard it had been? Ungrateful..._

"I don't need you to be a gentleman, Hook. I need you to be smart. What am I supposed to do if you fall out again? Drag you behind me?"

"Well, you could always use that magic of yours. Worked so well the last time," he answered acerbically, gingerly rotating his arm.

He stopped mid-motion when she lowered herself beside him, her arm leaning against his. She pressed something into his palm.

It was a damn seed from one of the fruits, no larger than an acorn but big enough to wrap his fingers around. When he looked at Emma again, ready to ask if she'd finally lost her mind, she nodded towards Tinkerbell.

"Go on. Give it to her," she urged, the look in her eyes suggesting _he_ was the one who'd lost his damn sanity.

He opened his mouth to argue, but something in her eyes changed. She mouthed something, something that read suspiciously like "trust me," and he felt his eyebrows shoot towards his hairline.

Tinkerbell was still silent, watching their exchange. Emma smiled at her, actually smiled, and the air around the fairy seemed to glow a deeper gold. Expectant eyes turned back to him, green and wide.

_Seven hells this was bloody ridiculous. _He didn't have the slightest clue as to what a blasted seed had to do with a kiss. Had everyone but him gone insane this time?

_ Trust me._

Perhaps someone should bloody tell her that it worked both ways.

He hesitated, glancing at the smooth brown bulb in his hand, and felt a sudden pinch in his side. He graced Emma with the steeliest glare he could manage before taking a deep breath and plunging into the madness.

"My dear Tink," he started, eyes cast on the seed in his hand. Perhaps if he feigned a sense of importance, it might help. He winced as he braced his knuckles on the ground and rose, the fairy following suit and literally glowing.

_Charm. Use it._

He circled her right wrist with his hook and brought it towards him, turning her palm up. He held the brown seed in front of her eyes, showing it to her before placing it in her palm and closing her fingers over it. "A kiss."

Her eyes widened even more, and before he could decided whether that was a good thing or bad thing, her small body wrapped itself around his, knocking the very breath out of him.

"Thank you," she mumbled against his chest, her arms tightening until he was reminded quite forcefully that his ribs had yet to heal.

"Easy, sweetheart," he grumbled, prying her off with a hand on her shoulder. He caught a quick glimpse of Emma over Tink's bouncing head, a smirk self-satisfied enough to rival one of his own creasing her cheeks.

How that hell had she known? How the bloody hell could anyone have known? He'd spent the equivalent of hundreds of years here, and yet this young, perpetually angry, blonde and infuriating woman from a completely different world had somehow managed to show him something new. He couldn't help the way his upper lip arched, the begrudging chuckle that followed.

"Alright, my turn," Tink said, her smile still glowing. His smirk faded back to a tight line.

"What?"

He watched her fumble with something in the brown pouch around her waist, stepping back warily as she hastily withdrew something. "Here, a kiss."

He couldn't see what she was gripping in her hand, but with a warning look from Emma, he extended his arm and slowly unfurled his fingers. She placed something smooth and cool in his palm. He couldn't hide the surprise when he realized quite abruptly what it was.

"Tink…this is…"

"A kiss," she finished, her eyes peering up at him. "A promise to protect you."

He held the glass vial to the sinking moon and admired the faint gleam of the powder inside. _Pixie Dust._

* * *

"You're brilliant, love."

His words were a little too close to her ear, and certainly too earnest for her liking. Emma picked up her pace, but he did as well. "You have my permission to call me an 'idiot' any time you like, now."

"Yeah, right," she tried to brush it off. "Any kid in my world would know what a Neverland 'kiss' is. Just watch out if she ever asks you for a thimble."

"A what?" he asked, the brief haze of sheer confusion that pulled his brow together making her smirk. It was becoming a startling habit, but she found that she genuinely enjoyed knowing something that he didn't. The self-assured and aged man disappeared when he was confused, when he was trying to figure something out. It was almost like she could see the years melt away from his face, the tortured soul act slipping from his features.

"What else would every 'kid' in your land know about Neverland, then?" he asked, sweeping aside a large branch as they continued their trek beside the river, Tinkerbell humming and zooming over their heads like some mutated lightening bug.

"I knew who you were, didn't I?" she answered him.

"Yes, but how? What else do you know that could help us?" he asked, speaking softly into her ear again.

She pushed her hand against his chest this time to get her point across. "Personal space, okay?"

She could feel him grinning at her as she turned and kept walking, and since it was better than the menacing scowl he'd worn the whole damn time, she wasn't really complaining. Something about him was different, almost…_lighter. _

"You didn't answer my question, love," he said. "What else do you know about Neverland?"

"Well, I know what that is," she said, looked back and nodding towards the vial he'd secured to his necklace. "Pixie dust, right?"

"Indeed," he answered, and she could hear the surprise in his voice. It made her smile again.

"So you know how to use it?" she asked, shouldering past a tall bush.

"More or less. I'm afraid it's quite useless at the moment, however," he answered. She was about to squeeze through a pair of reaching branches when he appeared at her side again, using his hook to hold the spiny plant back.

"What do you mean useless?" she asked, continuing forward. "Don't you just have to think some happy thought or something?"

She heard him laugh, the sound clear and genuine. She narrowed her eyes and sighed. "Guess that's where the story changes again."

"You're partially right," he shrugged, before holding his arm out and stopping her from going any further. His boot was suddenly stomping and grinding a blue-leafed sprout into the dirt just where she had been about to step. A strange crunching noise accompanied his action, before the dirt around it blackened with a rancid-smelling fluid. "It does require something along the lines of hope and belief," he continued, "but according to Tinkerbell, there also needs to be some kind of trigger. Some kind of thought or emotion strong enough to spark the magic in it."

"So a good enough happy thought could do it?"

He kicked dust up over the now crushed and inky plant, his arm still across her midsection. She caught his gaze and saw the suggestion in his eyes before he ever uttered a single word.

"Perhaps we could test it?"

Without missing a beat, she met his wicked grin with one of her own. "Well, I bet I could think of plenty of ways to wipe that smirk off your face. That'd make me plenty happy."

"Ooo, careful love," he practically whispered. "This is a game I've had centuries to perfect."

"Too bad I'm not playing," she said, her voice flat and stern. "Now can we keep moving? I think you killed it, whatever it was," she said, eyeing the trampled plant.

He sighed heavily, the amusement disappearing from his face in a blink. "You see? Quite useless, this pixie dust. After you, Swan."

They had made a few hours' worth of headway along the river, and it had taken some time before Tinkerbell seemed calm enough to answer their questions. Emma had pressed her about Wendy just after her little "kiss" exchange with Hook, but she had been so ridiculously excited that her attention span pretty much matched a caffeinated five-year-old's. Hook seemed happy enough with his little vial of pale brown ash, and hadn't pushed it or been much help. The moment Tinkerbell finally grew back to human size when they reached a wide bend in the river, though, Emma figured it was as good a time as any to launch into her interrogation.

"So, about Wendy," she started, walking beside her. "Can you tell us a little more, like you said you would?"

"Oh." The wide smile faded from her lips, and she began twisting the string around her neck that she'd attached her "kiss" to. Her wings fluttered faster. "Well, Peter just said that we should all protect Wendy, since she's the one that takes care of him and the lost boys. She loves them," she said, though the way she said it made Emma think she didn't get what that word really meant. She remembered what Tinkerbell had said to Hook earlier while she'd feigned sleep.

_"You don't have a Wendy."_

"She was just a girl who'd been dragged here from another world. She's a hostage," Hook interjected from up ahead. Emma was surprised to hear an edge of anger in his voice. "Bae told me about her. The shadow took him instead so that her brothers would be safe."

"You're wrong," Tinkerbell said to his back. Emma saw his shoulder rise with a scoff. "Wendy came back because she wanted to," she continued. "They call her their mother. It's because of her they don't cry in the night anymore. Haven't you noticed, Killian? How quiet it is now?"

"Hang on," Emma stopped her. "You're telling us that Wendy Darling is in Neverland? That a young girl is _here _with all the lost boys and...and incubus things, because she wants to be?"

"Is she in your stories too?" Hook asked, and she caught the eye-roll.

"Yeah, she was. And, according to my 'stories,' you tried to seduce her and then feed her to a crocodile when she refused you. That doesn't sound familiar, does it?"

"What poor depraved ignoramus would write something like that? I would never try to 'seduce' a child, or feed them to..." he trailed off, and it wasn't hard to guess why. "A crocodile?"

"God it'd be so much easier if J.M. Barrie actually knew what the hell he was talking about," Emma sighed, ignoring the questioning look Hook shot back at her. "I guess I just got lucky with the ki-" she stopped herself, "I mean the other thing."

Hook narrowed his eyes. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind the next time you tell me to trust you."

"Tinkerbell," Emma said, turning her attention back to the woman. "What is Wendy like? Can you describe her to us? I mean, is she still a young girl? Does she know about my son?"

"I don't..." the fairy paused. "I mean I can't...I only know that she's here, okay? I told you enough already. Stop asking me." In a blink she was back to her tiny self, soaring above their heads, out of earshot.

"Tinkerbell - " Emma shouted up towards her, but the brush of fingertips on her arm stopped her.

"You've lost her, love," Hook said, standing in front of her now. "I'd wager she was told very specifically what she can and cannot not relate to us. I doubt very seriously that Wendy was ever on the 'can' list, so we should take what we have and run with it." He was quiet for a moment, contemplative even. "But what the hell would Pan want with a girl?"

"What does he want with Henry?" she asked, walking past him and stepping over a mossy log. "We just need to find their camp, sooner rather than later, and ask the little monster himself."

"Yes, because everything is always that simple."

"You know," she stopped, "you could actually be helpful and tell me about him instead of being all passive aggressive and sarcastic. I mean, as entertaining as your dark and mysterious one-liners about Pan are, they're not doing me a damn bit of good."

He continued walking until he was just in front of her. "Tell you what? That's he's a bloody fiend predisposed towards torture and mind games? I thought we already went over that."

"There has to be something else. I mean, with every person I've come across, no matter how murderous, you included, there has always been a reason or a story behind it. What's his? How did a kid end up here and turn into whatever he is?"

Hook crooked his thumb around his belt buckle. "Are we here to exchange bedtime stories or get your son back?" he asked, and she could see the annoyance flicker in his eyes.

"It could only help if I knew more about what the hell is going on. _Give me something._ How can he be hurt? Does he have any kind of conscience? What does he fucking look like?"

"I don't know. No. And picture a fourteen-year old boy with large ears and dead eyes. Anything else, Swan?"

"I...yeah there's a lot more!" she shouted. A strangely quiet jungle greeted her outburst.

"Go on, then," he said after a moment, resting his hook on the handle of his sword. "You want to stand here all day and talk, go right ahead."

"I just want to know what you know. However long you spent here, you had to have learned something else. Something beyond what plants to touch and not touch. Something about him and this world that we can actually use."

He was quiet as he regarded her, right hand now practically attached to his belt buckle in a death-grip. She imagined if the hook hadn't been in the way then he would have crossed his arms.

"Did you want to know something in particular, or were you just looking for all the sordid details?" he asked, leaning toward her. He was beginning to get angry, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out why. It wasn't so unreasonable that she wanted to know more about the maniac that kidnapped her kid.

"I don't even know enough to figure out what to ask," she shot back. "I mean...have you fought him before? Face to face? Is he strong? Can he wield magic like Regina and Gold?"

Hook glanced upward, and his eyes were quite pointedly focused on the canopy above them.

Emma's hands balled at her sides. "Are you even listening to me?"

"She's gone," he mumbled, craning is head left and right.

"What?" she said, looking above them as well. She could only assume he meant Tinkerbell, and the spazzy bug was indeed nowhere in sight.

"God damn it," she sighed. "What'd I do? Scare her off?"

"Oh, I hope you don't mind. I know you're awfully fond of Tink, Captain, but since you have the savior here I figure she can play with someone else."

A young boy's voice echoed through the trees, and Emma spun around just in time to see Hook rip his sword from his sheath and slash it towards a boy. _A boy. _Emma's heart leapt into her chest at the sight of Hook's dark, menacing figure launch at the child, blade flashing and cutting through the air. She took a step towards them, shouted "Stop!" reflexively, but the boy suddenly vanished. Hook stumbled when his furious momentum met empty air.

"Get back!" he shouted to her, scrambling to her side with his eyes glued to the sky above them. She pulled her dagger out and braced it in front of her when the pieces started falling in place. _Him. It must have been him._

"So that was..."

"Peter Pan," a voice whispered in her ear. She felt a cold chill trace sharp fingers down her spine, a bite in the air around her that felt dark and deadly. Hook was already turning, facing her now as icey tendrils of air wrapped themselves around her arms and legs, slimy and cold and rough all at the same time. They coiled like ropes, invisible bonds searing into her skin.

She couldn't move a single fucking inch.

"Hook!" she shouted, trying to warn him, to break him out of the silent horror that made his lips part, the wild fear that tore an enraged howl from his throat. A tall boy was coming up fast behind him, a hood thrown over his head and casting strange shadows across his face in linear patterns. As he flung himself forward, the late morning light washed away the effect and she saw quite clearly that the lines were scars. Pitted, disfiguring scars.

Hook turned just in time and caught the tall boy's weapon - it looked like a gnarled club or branch - in the curve of his hook, and swung his sword around towards the boy's stomach. A crude knife appeared from within the boy's robes, and it caught the steel before it sunk home. Emma watched as the kid slid his knife around Hook's blade, slicing over his hand and drawing a vivid red line.

"Watch it!" she yelled, struggling hard. She instinctively fought against the invisible bonds, her eyes sweeping over the area, imagining avenues of escape. Hook and the tall boy were just in front of her, and she could feel Pan's presence at her back, but there wasn't another person in sight. If she could just get free, these kids wouldn't last a second.

"Isn't this quite the show?" Pan spoke into her ear again from behind. "Just relax, Savior. Enjoy today's entertainment with me."

"I don't think so." Henry's face flashed in her mind. She fought harder, watching as Hook dodged one of the tall boy's lunges. There had to be a way out...if some kind of stupid magic would just kindle inside her, if she could use her fury at Pan for taking Henry to kick-start it...

But it was just like she was back in that room on the ship. She couldn't...nothing would come to her. No sense of power, no special feelings, nothing. The sounds of the fight in front of her drew her attention away from that crushing sense of _uselessness _that threatened to positively ruin her, and watched as Hook kicked at the boy, throwing his weight behind a particularly powerful slash that left the metal of his sword singing. The boy deflected it with his club, and slashed the knife he held in his other hand through the air towards him. The deadly weapon sailed past Hook's face, and in a surprisingly quick move he caught the boy's hand between his arm and his body as he spun until his back was against him. She watched and heard the crack of his head slamming back against the boy's, once, twice. He twisted his hook and the club went flying from his hand, and a moment later he rammed the handle of his sword into the boy's face. The knife fell, and the boy was suddenly on his knees before Hook, bleeding and half-unconscious.

"Go on Hook," Pan spat from behind Emma. "Go ahead and kill him. Run him through and watch him die."

Emma's eyes widened as she watched Hook pull his arm back, prepared to kill the boy..._the kid _as he glared up at him, his all-too young eyes defiant and scared. Henry's face flashed in her mind, that same defiance mirrored in his all too often.

"No...no stop!" she practically screamed, fighting against the magic that still held her. "Hook don't. Don't kill him. Look at what you're doing, he's just a - "

"THIS IS NO CHILD!"

It was the first time since that night on the ship that she found herself genuinely afraid. Veins protruded from his forehead as his skin colored a deep red and spit flew from his mouth. She saw the fury, the wide too-bright gleam in his eyes. This wasn't his cold, calculated anger, or the frightening darkness she'd seen from him before. This...this was some kind of desperate rage. This, whatever this was, it was alive, burning and terrified and capable of anything.

"That's right, Hook," Pan spoke again, circling around until he stood directly beside Emma. She could finally see him now, clad in the colors of the jungle, soiled browns and greens. A simple dagger hung around his waist, but he hadn't even bothered to draw it. A mop of messy, tangled blonde hair stuck to his face and stood up in odd directions, giving the effect of a kid that had been experimenting with his older brother's hair gel. His cheeks were still rounded with youth, his shoulders were slim and un-muscled, and his arms and face held no trace of hair, save for some kind of light fuzz that caught the sunlight as cast a golden light around his skin. His eyes would have been perfectly level with hers.

"How many of your men did Felix kill? How many times has he left you to die? Suffering for days with your insides hanging out, your body on fire from the poison, the knife-wounds, the lashes, until Tink could find you? Do you really want someone like that around Henry, around _her?" _Pan taunted, and Emma flinched internally as the boy placed a hand on her shoulder.

The tall boy was silent as he remained kneeling, blood oozing and coloring his pale cheeks, gathering in the depressions that the scars left. The innocence in his eyes was shocking in comparison to Pan's words. Had he really done so much to him? Had Hook honestly suffered so badly at the hands of this kid? And Henry…what could they possibly be doing to Henry…

"Hook, listen to me," she said, her own voice cracking. "Please, don't do this. Whatever they've done to you, whatever they are now, that boy doesn't deserve to die like this. Please – "

Emma saw his grip tighten on the handle of his sword and his shoulders tense a moment before she had enough sense to close her eyes. She heard the tall boy's strangled cry like a plea for help, the unmistakable sound of flesh cleaving, and finally the thud of a heavy sack crumpling to the jungle floor. She felt the tears track down her face even as she swore to herself that she wouldn't let them fall.

She had no way of knowing what hell Hook had been through before. If even half of what Pan said had actually happened, then maybe this Felix kid deserved it…and yet the look in that boy's eyes still haunted her, even behind her closed ones.

"You see what he is?" Pan whispered in her ear, intimately, like he was sharing some kind of secret. "You see how vicious and demented? I couldn't have asked for a better player than him. A better villain to my hero." She felt him walk away and squeezed her eyes closed tighter, as if the simple motion could block it all out.

"You're next," she heard Hook threaten lowly, "and don't hope I'll make your death as easy as his."

"Well that sounds like a grand adventure," Pan answered, "and one I'll meet with open arms…one day. But it won't be at your hands."

"Oh no?"

Emma could practically hear the murder in his voice, and she ground her teeth together. She wanted to say something, anything that might bring him back, but she couldn't think of a damned thing. He'd stepped both feet over some line, some imperceptible barrier that separated Hook from…Hook? _Or was it Killian Jones from Hook? _Is that why Tinkerbell had called him Killian? Was he really two different people? She'd glimpsed this part of him before when he had attacked Belle and Gold back in Storybrooke, but it really only had been just a glimpse. This…_he _was something else entirely now.

"The only one you ever hated more than Felix is me, Hook," Pan declared loudly, his voice suddenly taking on the practiced tone of a stage actor. "But I'm afraid, Captain, that my life isn't as disposable as his. Drop your sword, or I'll play some of Felix's games with the savior_._"

"You demon," Hook growled, and Emma couldn't take it anymore. She forced her eyes back open. She couldn't hide from what was happening. She wouldn't. This kid, whatever he was, he knew where Henry was. He was the fastest way to her son. He was the fucking key to everything, and God damn it, she needed Hoo – Jones back from wherever he'd hidden himself.

It bothered her that he didn't even seem to be fazed in the least by the way his hand and sword glistened wetly with Felix's blood. She saw the pile of brown rags and pale flesh beside him, and she felt her stomach heave. She had to focus on something else. Other paths, ways to escape…

"As if anyone could play my games better than me."

A new voice suddenly filled the clearing, and another tall boy emerged from the brush to stand just to her right. Emma immediately thought that her eyes were playing tricks on her, that she was hallucinating, delusional. Despite her attempts to detach herself, she found that she was left with no other explanation than the sad fact that her mind had finally gotten away from her, that she was losing it.

"What is this?"

Hook's voice abruptly brought her back. It bordered on desperate, and she was surprised when it evoked an even richer, deeper, bone-numbing fear than before. She hadn't thought it was possible to feel so much twisting and burning in her gut…to physically shake from the terror of truly not knowing where reality ended, and illusion began.

"Ah ah, Captain. Your sword, on the ground." Pan pointed down as Emma suddenly felt the magical ties around her tighten. Her breath was forced out of her as one constricted around her chest.

Hook's sword clattered to the jungle floor only a beat later, the rawest expression of anguish etched in the set of his eyes, but it was only just perceptible. There was nothing else, no sign that he had even realized what was happening. Emma quickly looked from Hook to the body that still lay beside him, and the scarlet that pooled towards his feet.

"How..." she started, but words seemed to fail her. The boy that stood beside her now was an exact mirror of the dead body on the ground, scar for scar.

"Just a bit of imagination can go a long way," Pan smiled. "And did I have you going, Hook. You actually thought I would just let you kill my second?" Pan laughed, the tall boy beside her sneered, and the fake-Felix laid all too still.

"Who did I kill, then?" Hook asked, his voice quiet and low. The lack of emotion it carried chilled her.

"I don't remember his name, actually," the tall boy, Felix, drawled. "But he was relatively new. Eager to prove himself. He was so excited when I told him he would get to fight the infamous Captain Hook. Too bad he didn't last long enough to really enjoy it."

No...no. She'd been right. She'd seen it in his face. It really had been just a kid. She'd been right. God, _she'd been right. _

When she glanced up again, any last remnants of life and emotion that might have remained were erased from Hook's features. It was like she was staring at a statue.

"Well, isn't this interesting," Pan mused, and Emma quite suddenly felt the bonds around her body disappear. She stumbled as the feeling returned to her feet, and she rubbed her arms together as they buzzed with blood flow. Before she could even think about the dagger she still had in her grasp, it disappeared from her hand, as if it had never been there.

Emma slowly turned her gaze to Pan, feeling the very heat and passion that had been leeched from Hook's countenance blossom inside of her. In that one awful moment, as the boy with large ears he'd never grow into, and dead eyes that would never shine with wisdom appraised her, she understood everything that Hook hadn't been able to tell her.

"Where is my son?" she asked, the only question that seemed possible, the only question her mind could grasp. "Tell me!"

Pan closed the distance between them until he stood practically an inch away, vivid green eyes staring back at her own. "Perhaps I will, if you say 'please.'"

She took another breath, shoving down the urge to strangle him, to bash his head against a rock. "Please, tell me where my son is."

"Well, he's not the lost boy Hook killed, I will at least tell you that," he answered, tone light and playful. Felix laughed, the sound drawing her attention back towards him and Hook. Felix was circling him and the body, eyes focused with a distinct gleam that made her skin crawl.

"Tell you what," Pan said, raising a hand to cup his chin. "Let's start a new game. One where you get to make the rules." He pointed to Emma, "Doesn't that sound like fun?"


End file.
